Blaine and his hair gel, it's complicated
by Nightingale63
Summary: Blaine struggles to control his emotions, his image, and always - his hair. He feels his natural 'do is absurd and wild. The gel ban at the prom is no joke to him though Kurt is secretly intrigued to see Blaine free of the gel helmet. Will Kurt regret his plot to effect a makeover on Blaine? Warning: for language, brief violence. Basically canon to season 3.
1. Chapter 1

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. I hope you enjoy! And, of course, I don't own Glee or its characters :-)**

Kurt excitedly looked around at the goofily decorated prom before them. He had to admit, it worked better than he would have expected, and wait?...

"Blaine! Do you see that? Is that a bunch of Cheerios with T-rex heads on at the other side of the room?"

Blaine looked around Kurt and smiled as he caught sight of the Cheerios. "is Brittany really wearing a Pebbles costume -" As he stepped further into the room he was interrupted from his reverie by none other than class president, Brittany...

Blaine at first was just a bit stunned... she really wasn't going to make him de-gel his hair right here, right now? Except that apparently she was. He wanted to just bolt – he hadn't really wanted to go to prom anyway, and the never-ending string of reminders that Kurt was soon to leave him behind to go to New York was just depressing. However, one look at Kurt, who was much more relaxed than last year, and looked really happy to just enjoy the party, was enough for him. He could not ruin this night for Kurt.

"Blaine, it'll be fine! Do you want me to go with you, sweetie?" Kurt's brow furrowed cutely as he offered to go help Blaine. Truthfully, he was eager to see his gorgeous boyfriend without the dreaded gel prison, and mentally noted that he owed dear Brit Brit for this one.

"No, erm, ah, you go ahead." Blaine smiled weakly. "I'll be back soon, it's all right."

Kurt frowned slightly, but seeing the resigned look on Blaine's face decided not to press the matter. "OK, I can't wait to see you back, so hurry!", and he planted a quick kiss on Blaine's cheek, giving him a quick hug as he leaned in and whispered to his ear "Courage."

_He has no idea how hard_... Blaine tried to stop his internal monologue as he headed to the restroom to ungel his hair. _It's OK, breathe_, he chanted to himself; _you've done lots of crazy things in the time you've known Kurt_, and God love him, Kurt seemed to have hidden reserves of coping when it really mattered. _It's hair for cryin' out loud, get over this! _Reaching the door of the bathroom, he decided to just give up the internal pep talk – _just do it, Anderson, don't think_. And definitely, don't _feel_ anything. But then, unbidden, thoughts of that unending summer came back to him...

The beating he and Adam suffered at the Sadie Hawkins dance hadn't been the end of his troubles freshman year. They both missed weeks of school, and then in the end Adam didn't return to school when Blaine did, finishing the year instead with tutors while his battered body and shattered psyche healed. They'd started to drift apart even before Blaine returned to school. It was not that they'd ever had a falling out, but more that aside from being the only gay freshmen they each knew about, they didn't have that much in common and had never gotten a chance to become close as anything more than a first crush. When Adam's father got a promotion that resulted in the family's relocation to California, the boys promised each other to stay in touch, but didn't communicate more than a couple of times a week.

Blaine found himself unable to catch up academically, as the terror he couldn't shake facing life at his school made focusing impossible. His father had been initially shocked and protective of his son following the attack. But as Blaine healed, the fights with his father intensified: his father continued to berate him for his "choice" of homosexuality, spending too much time on his music, and failing at his classes. Then grandfather Anderson persuaded his son to send Blaine to Dalton Academy for the next academic year. After several tense family conferences, they decided to have him board there; Blaine was panicked at the thought of leaving home, but also hurt all the time from the constant message his father gave of how inadequate he was, and how disappointed he was that his son kept insisting that he was gay.

There were at least two things about Blaine that nothing would change that drove his father crazy: that his younger son was gay, and his freaking curly hair. Academic deficiencies could be overcome, wounds could heal, but Blaine felt powerless in continuing to disappoint his father in those two ways. Blaine's hair had been just mildly wavy, like his brother Cooper's, until puberty. Blaine had been as surprised and flustered by his unruly mass of curls as anyone else: it had been one more baffling thing to deal with, one more thing about Blaine that he hadn't asked for or chosen that pissed his father off. His mother had been no real help; she had taken him for haircuts, but when Blaine refused to have a super short, she had given up and just insisted that he keep it clean.

Blaine had never been happier to go visit with his grandfather Anderson for a few weeks at the start of summer vacation than he was that year. Escaping the tension at home for the comfortable quiet life of his grandfather's lake house was a relief. Grampy knew most of what had happened after the dance, but was still saddened to see his grandson as he now appeared: nervous, unsure, and sometimes he'd swear he was on the verge of tears for no apparent reason.

And then there was... the hair?

"Blaine, it's good to see you've grown since last summer" he said, marking Blaine's height on the doorpost to his workshop, where he'd put a fresh mark every year of Blaine's life when he would come to the lake house for the first visit of summer. He'd then tousled Blaine's hair, and tried to hold back a frown as it appeared that Blaine had flinched a little from contact, as Blaine's eyes drifted to his hair. "Son, I see you got your uncle's curls after all."

Blaine could only nod, not knowing what to say, bracing himself for some hurtful comment on his hair.

His grandfather went on, "You don't seem too thrilled about this." And he smiled. Blaine was relieved to see only a gentle smile on his grandfather's face as his hand returned to his lap. "Rob was just the same: his hair changed about when his voice did, surprised us all."

They were interrupted by his grandmother. "Blaine! Oh, I've missed you so much!" She moved quickly, and swooped in to give him a strong hug and kiss on his forehead. "Let's get you settled, I'm starving and I bet you are too!" And she darted back into the house, leaving Blaine and his grandfather smiling and following after.

**A/N: this is my first chapter of my first fanfic! AU? A bit – we get to see that while Blaine suffers from unsupportive parents, his grandparents do love him unconditionally and are his emotional anchors. And... perhaps his signature style owes more to Grampy Anderson than that of most boys his age. **

**More soon! Reviews would be much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. I hope you enjoy! And, of course, I don't own Glee or its characters :-)**

Blaine completely missed the concerned glance his grandparents shared as they hurried to sit down to lunch. Blaine got up and hugged his grandmother from behind, kissing her on the cheek. "Grandmom, you rock! This looks so good!"

"Well, young man, it looks like you have meals to catch up on! Go on, eat!"

Grampy Anderson smiled at his wife, shaking his head just a little. God love her, that woman was always at her happiest when she was either feeding her loved ones, or making something for them. They were both worried about Blaine, though. He had healed outwardly from that horrible beating after the Sadie Hawkins dance, but looked thin, pale, and just, well … sad. Not the Blaine they knew at all. He didn't care as much as his idiot son did that Blaine was gay. He didn't pretend to understand it, but he and his wife just figured they didn't have to: Blaine was still Blaine, their beautiful boy, full of life and enthusiasm and talent. They'd educated themselves about this, and had even talked to a gay couple at church about it. They decided there was no reason to disbelieve the boy, and no reason to think this was anything other than permanent.

Blaine had changed physically too over the last year, adding a little height, sprouting a tiny bit of stubble, but most dramatically, sporting a head of loose curls. Their oldest son Rob had been just the same, his hair changing from mostly straight to a curly mop at about the same age. Rob hadn't had much interest in dealing with it one way or another, and chose pretty early on to just keep it really short. Later, when he joined the military, he hardly looked different in his military cut, that's how short he'd kept it. They didn't see much of their son, an Army doctor stationed in Germany, but were happy for the technology that allowed them to communicate on Facebook and Skype. Rob had been furious with his brother and how he handled (or mishandled) just about everything with Blaine, and had been one of the most vocal proponents of the scheme to send Blaine to Dalton, as a boarder (even though the family's home was within easy driving distance).

Johnathan shook himself out of his reverie as he watched Blaine stuff himself with his wife's excellent fish chowder, served with fresh, hot beer bread that Blaine had smothered with plenty of butter. Ellen was up then, happily refilling his bowl, and he turned his attention to Blaine.

"So, son, got any plans for this summer?"

Blaine looked up, hastily swallowed what looked like a huge bite of bread, and answered after swigging a gulp of milk, "Uh, not really?"

Johnathan winced inwardly at the unsure, almost haunted look in Blaine's eyes. He knew his most important work that summer was summed up right there.

"I talked to your parents. How about staying here a bit longer than usual, sport?"

Did Blaine really have to answer out loud, his grandfather mused, looking at his grandson's face and seeing a bit of the Blaine he knew.

"Grampy, grandmom, really? That would be totally awesome!" Blaine looked a bit like an excited puppy. "How long can I stay?" His grandparents exchanged a look. Any doubts they'd harbored of their plans were utterly stripped away.

Ellen shot out of her chair and hugged her grandson before retreating to the kitchen. She couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes, and didn't want Blaine to see them. Johnathan looked at her retreating form, guessing (correctly) what prompted her need to suddenly refill her coffee, and spoke for them both. "We'd love you to stay the summer, if you want to – "

He didn't get to finish his sentence, as his demonstrative grandson half tackled him in his chair and interrupted, "Yes! Oh grampy, I can't believe it!"

Johnathan and Ellen watched Blaine change over the next few weeks, acquiring a tan along with the sparkle back in his eyes. He'd even started to lose that half-starved look he had at the start of summer, thanks to Ellen's good cooking and his hearty teenage appetite.

They watched him play his guitar endlessly every night, and watched him as he kayaked on the lake every morning. He was so eager to please – the grass had never been so well attended to, the flower beds weed-free. He applied himself to his studies. Dalton's academic requirements were challenging. Blaine had taken it better than they thought he would when Dalton determined that it would be best for him to simply repeat freshman year. Johnathan guessed nothing Dalton could have required would have met with any resistance from Blaine, who was so transparently happy to be going there. During the hottest part of the day, Blaine applied himself to Dalton's book list. Ellen would make sure he had some lemonade, and would always put some cookies out for Blaine, which were always gone by the time he got up.

"So, son," Johnathan said to Blaine, tousling his curls, which frankly were really long now and out of control. "Have you given any thought to how to control..." he searched for words, "this … hair... before heading off to Dalton?"

**A/N : yes, a gentle cliffhanger, dear readers. Don't blame me... Blaine's hair deserves an epic all its own, don't you think? More soon! And I do love reviews, and feedback – if I've bored you at any point, let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. I hope you enjoy! And, of course, I don't own Glee or its characters :-)**

Johnathan stood with his grandson in the airy family room of his summer cottage. Ellen was beaming, looking at Blaine as he tried on his new Dalton uniform. Blaine looked so happy, almost bouncing as he buttoned the navy blazer with its red trim. It fit just right, Ellen thought, and she liked those colors on him. Well, she thought the blazer was a bit, maybe, garish? But she figured that was the prep school style. Except for his hair, which didn't seem to go with the sharp new uniform.

"So! How do I look! I loooove this!" His grandparents shared an amused smile as Blaine looked in the mirror. They weren't looking at how great he looked in his outfit, however; what caught at their throats, and left Ellen speechless, was how his eyes had their sparkle back, and his voice sounded so full of life and optimism. Johnathan knew it was his time to talk, and hoped Blaine would take what he said in the right way.

"I'd say that blazer looks like you were meant to wear it, son. That uniform works for you, no doubt." Blaine looked ridiculously happy at the simple compliment. "But, Blaine, well, we need to do something about that hair."

Johnathan groaned inside, seeing his grandson's expression suddenly change from happy to whipped puppy. Damn his fucking son for doing this to him!

Ellen was back at Blaine's side, having hastily pulled herself back together. She gave a loving pat to his head before saying, "Sweetie, I really love your hair, you know that." She couldn't stop herself from planting a kiss on his curls before continuing, as Blaine's hopeful eyes met her face. "But I think, to go along with your new look, I mean, you're going to be wearing a Dalton uniform all the time, right? I mean"

Johnathan interrupted her, "Don't panic, son! You just need a haircut, and some guidance on how to style your hair for going to your new school."

"Yeah! Sure! Anything you say, gramps!" Blaine answered, happiness flooding back into his face. Johnathan couldn't help but think, he's got it. Finally. We love him so much, no holds barred, and that includes his crazy hair.

Johnathan smiled before answering. "OK, sport. What do you say you change out of those fancy duds and we head out to my barber, all right?"

"I'm coming too!" Ellen piped up. "Then ice cream after!" Sheesh, Johnathan thought, and people actually wondered where Blaine got his goofiness from. Ellen didn't look anywhere near her age, and though he mused that she managed to pass as an adult most of the time, she was sweet and excitable. He adored her, and was glad that the Ellen inside never changed.

That night they shared what would be one of their last of this summer, relaxing on the deck, watching the birds as they dived at the lake, in search of the mosquitos they could not see in the fading light. Blaine looked almost like a different person, hair much shorter, and now heavily gelled.

Johnathan had taken him to the barber he'd been going to for over 40 years, who was certainly past retirement age, but worked part-time in the shop his children had taken over. Looking over at Blaine, he wondered if maybe he should have had one of Jonas' kids do the honor of cutting and styling Blaine's hair instead, but Jonas had been so happy to see his old friend, and honored to cut his grandson's hair. That hair looked too formal for the faded, old purple v-necked tee and jeans Blaine wore now, but Johnathan figured it would work well with the Dalton blazer. Blaine had been so eager to please his grandparents all summer, and this extended, evidently, to taming his hair.

Ellen smiled a tiny smile, looking over at Blaine in his seat next to her dapper husband. Johnathan always wore a bit of gel too, and the likeness of grandson and grandfather with Blaine's new hair was much more noticeable. For one, with the hair out of his eyes she could see that Blaine had his grandfather's quirky triangular eyebrows. They both had a tendency to talk with their hands when they were excited. And Ellen loved it that Blaine's voice as it matured was picking up the tone and cadence of her beloved spouse.

"All right, sport, ready to call it a night?" Blaine was startled from his reverie as he looked up at his grandfather, who had gotten up out of his chair.

Blaine felt so many things. Excited about going to his new school, sad at leaving the lake house and the protective, nurturing bubble of his grandparents' love and care, and nervous that his parents would be picking him up in the morning. He'd only be there a few days before settling in at Dalton for orientation, but the cloud of his parents' disapproval weighed heavily on the fourteen year old boy.

"Ah, grampy, grandmom, can we just watch one more movie together? I don't feel sleepy at all." He flashed them his winningest smile, and added, looking at his grandmother, "Maybe Hercules?"

Johnathan chuckled. They both loved Disney movies. For a while he'd wondered if Blaine was just humoring his adored grandmother, but it became clear that they were really just partners in crime. Sappy Disney movies were her parental kryptonite, and on a summer night it didn't take too much convincing to stay up for another one. They would both be protesting in the morning, he knew that, but he watched in amusement as they readied the DVD.

"You two go ahead, I'll go make the popcorn," he'd said, knowing they barely heard as they watched the opening of the movie.

_I am on my way_

_I can go the distance_

_I don't care how long_

_Somehow I'll be strong_

As usual, Blaine was singing along with the lyrics. His grandparents shared a look, as this song seemed especially significant tonight. Blaine clearly felt it too, his eyes shining as he belted out the lyrics perfectly. They hoped this feeling would stay with him in the coming weeks.

"Yes, he got a haircut... The uniform is fine, it all fits. See you at lunch? All right, son." Johnathan hoped the long summer visit had been enough to defuse the tension his grandson and son had been suffering through. He'd only be home a few days before going off to Dalton, and Johnathan knew Blaine was sincere in his promise to keep in touch with them better this time. Well, he thought, Blaine's intentions were always good, but he thought, this time I will not let it happen. Never again is this child going to feel abandoned. He and Ellen had talked about this many times in the last few nights. She assured him that she was completely willing to be a mild nuisance to her cherished grandson, and he knew enough of her to believe that.

Johnathan pulled Blaine aside, purposefully avoiding his son's expression of annoyance at any delay. He held Blaine's hand, and opened it, depositing there his gold pocket watch.

"Blaine, you know we're going to miss you." He cleared his throat, but was interrupted by Blaine.

"Grampy! I can't take your pocket watch!" Blaine's eyes were filling with tears again. Johnathan wiped one away before shaking his head and continuing.

"Blaine. I'm not going to be there at Dalton for you. But I want you to have a piece of me," he smiled as Blaine nodded, "and this won't help you just avoid being late. I hope." He chuckled. Yet another thing Blaine shared with his wife. "Remember, we love you, and will always be there for you to talk to." He picked up the watch, and flipped it open, pointing to the fancy letters engraved with just one word on the inside cover, and pointed there. "Courage."

Blaine stood in the bathroom of McKinley High School, mournfully gazing at the mess of curls on his head. He'd managed to get the gel out, and used the hand dryer to dry his hair. He frowned before deciding he just didn't want to look anymore. The fluorescent lighting in the bathroom was, as always, unflattering, though he was sure that nothing short of restyling his hair back to its comfortable self would do. He felt like his hair made him look like a dorky fourteen year old. Kurt was going to hate this, he was sure.

Worse than Kurt seeing him in the crowded prom, however, would be Kurt discovering him here, broodily obsessing over his awful 'do. At least the lighting for the prom was dim. He squared his shoulders and headed out, checking his pocket watch once more before walking down the empty hallway.

**A/N : So, we're back to the present. Hope you've enjoyed a little Blaine backstory. Thoughts? I'd love to hear them!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. I hope you enjoy! And, of course, I don't own Glee or its characters, or Disney, or any song bits that might show here … :-) **

Blaine was amused that some girls he recognized from his literature class failed to recognize him as he walked by them on the way back to the prom. Maybe they hadn't looked too closely? After all, there were quite a few guys in tuxes. He saw the door to the gym and took a deep breath before going in.

Kurt saw him almost immediately, and Blaine was not at all prepared for his look of shock. This, he thought, could not be good. He felt exposed, suddenly queasy, and instantly worried that Kurt would think he looked stupid. Worse, Kurt was speechless. Speechless! No, he thought, that couldn't possibly be good... But he was interrupted from his burgeoning panic by Kurt's declaration of how good he looked. He couldn't even hear the words Kurt said after that, he really was that shocked that his boyfriend said he actually liked his insane hair. Their New Directions friends were kind, too, he noticed; even the guys had nice things to say. Nonetheless, Blaine was happy that prom was almost over anyway, surprised that he felt as suddenly drained as he did, and then when it was all really over... magic. With Kurt.

Carole opened the door the the Hudson-Hummel residence the next morning.

"Sweetie! Come on in! Finn, can you tell Kurt Blaine is here?" and she reached over to give him a little hug in greeting. "How about some coffee? I think you've got a minute," she laughed a little, knowing that her stepson was never fast in moving anywhere on a weekend morning.

"Thanks! Mrs. -"

"Honey!" She interrupted him, "Carole. Call me Carole, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, Carole!" He shook his head, and followed her into the kitchen. Finn came right after, gracing Blaine with an absent-sounding, "Dude" with a friendly head-nob, before he dived at the steaming muffins Carole put on the counter.

For once, Carole was mistaken, as Kurt followed them into the kitchen almost immediately, sneaking up on Blaine from behind with a hug and kiss on his cheek. Blaine didn't see the fleeting frown on Kurt's face, as Kurt had immediately noticed that Blaine's hair was back to its usual over-gelled helmet style. Dapper, yes, and immaculately in place, no doubt, but it was as if his soft curls barely existed. Kurt had already composed his face into a suitable smile before Blaine turned to face him and and excitedly say, "Good morning! My day just got 100% brighter!" before giving him an answering quick kiss.

Kurt really did adore his boyfriend's cheesy compliments – for one thing, he'd learned that they were sincere, even though most of them sounded pretty over the top. How this boy could love him this much was something he could only wonder at, and be thankful for. He loved Blaine so much, and at times like this had to push away to some other corner of his mind just how much it was going to hurt when he could not appreciate the one and only Blaine Warbler Anderson in person when he went away to NYADA. The Blaine who, apparently, was still deeply committed to his hair gel.

Kurt had a reputation as a diva (deserved), and a bitch (sometimes deserved), but he wasn't insensitive. He and Blaine had spent so many hours talking about so many things, and had shared so much. But Kurt knew very well that Blaine's carefully crafted exterior hid a boy who was fearful of abandonment, perfectionistic because his parents made him feel like he wasn't good enough, and who was even (and this amazed Kurt, but he knew it was true) self conscious about his looks. In particular, his height (which he could do nothing about, so he ignored it; except for maybe his funny quirk of hopping on furniture when he was excited), and his hair. Blaine was so paranoid about his hair that even after a sweaty workout he didn't stop at a quick shampoo like the other guys at school did, but would take time to apply hair gel and quickly style it the moment he got out of the shower. This hadn't gone unnoticed by Kurt, so he'd never given him crap about his hair, even in jest.

They'd both been shocked by Brittany's odd rules for the prom (most notably, no hair gel, which she stated looking right at Blaine – and then reinforced that she wasn't kidding about it). Brittany liked them both, and was no bully. Sure, hair gel hadn't been invented in cave people times, but neither had spandex! Kurt had noticed that Blaine had jumped at the idea of Rachel's alternate prom party, and suspected it was partly prompted by Blaine's unwillingness to adhere to Brittany's dress (hair?) code. Avoidance this serious covered pain, he was sure of it.

And then Kurt had seen Blaine's curls, and loved them even before he'd had a chance to play with them! Blaine had looked adorable, but also somehow he looked as nervous as if it were their first date. He suspected that his professions of affection for Blaine's natural hair had fallen on deaf ears. Seeing him back to exactly his usual style confirmed it. Kurt turned to get some coffee for himself, and sighed silently, wondering if maybe it was time to talk about this.

Blaine and Kurt strolled at a leisurely pace on the River Walk, and headed to the Japanese Garden section. Following their usual tradition, they touched the boulder marking the entrance to that part of the park, and headed for a table under the dappled shade of the cherry trees. The blossoms weren't at their peak anymore, but were scattered here and there, joined by azaleas that were coming into bloom.

"You know," Blaine said, smiling at Kurt with that smile of his that looked like perfect peace, "I love coming here. With you. Even in the winter, it has a special beauty." He opened up his backpack, removing their iced teas and sandwiches. "Of course, right now … maybe this is just little ol' Lima, but I don't care what anyone says, this place is beautiful, especially this time of year."

Kurt agreed. Their shared love of this particular walk, and this garden within it, was only one of many things they both appreciated. "Hmmm," he hummed, "you do make the scenery pop, Mr. Anderson." He loved it that Blaine actually blushed at this. "Yes, exactly as it is right now, this view in front of me … this is beautiful." And he added softly, "just like you."

They took in the happy scene around them. Families with their little children darting around the pink and purple azaleas, couples snapping pictures in front of the flowers, joggers, and even a few old people out enjoying the fine day. They both accepted that here, in Lima, in public, they would not be as open in their physical affection as they'd like. But that wasn't about to stop them from enjoying some time together out in this glorious weather, and it didn't impede their usual, flirty conversations.

They ate their picnic, enjoying their usual affectionate banter. Kurt was so relieved that they'd been able to make up after the disastrous Chandler incident. It all reminded him of how frail his lover's self esteem really could be, and he vowed not to cause him pain like that ever again, if he could help it. Which of course, made the topic of his secret wish for a makeover (a modest one!) for his beloved a puzzle to approach.

**A/N : Gentle readers, so sorry for the long delay! My mother is in the hospital, and is doing better but has had a rough time, so I've been occupied with a lot of travel and family. I am glad to be home, and she is stable, and am glad to be able to finally post a chapter. As always, dear friends, feedback is good. This was a quiet chapter for the most part, but sets up what is to come...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. I hope you enjoy! And, of course, I don't own Glee or its characters, or Disney, or any song bits that might show here … :-) **

That night, the glee club had gathered at Kurt's house like they'd planned earlier that week. Tomorrow, they'd be back to classes, and preparing for Nationals, and all the individual concerns swirling around in their respective universes. But tonight, they were happy to share a simple barbecue, with a few guitars, and a lot of goofing off.

Puck and Kurt shared a conspiratorial glance. Puck nodded, as if to say to Kurt, hey, I got this, no worries; he handed Blaine the glass of diet cola he'd asked for, and said, "hey, Blaine, what happened to the new 'do, bro? It was, I dunno, kinda cool."

He ignored Blaine's look of surprise and went on, "I thought maybe Hummel here convinced you to do a makeover or something." Puck hoped Blaine could hear it as friendly, definitely that was how he meant it. And Puck really did like it the way it looked at the end of prom. Before he could add anything else, Rachel chimed in, "yeah, it looked really nice! You should try it that way sometimes." And she smiled her brightest smile at him before turning her attention back to Finn, who was busy nuzzling her neck.

Blaine didn't really want to talk about his hair. Not here. Not really anywhere. "Did you look at the new sheet music -"

Santana looked up and sharply cut him off, "hey! We said no set list obsessing tonight! Don't make me go all -"

"Santana! Chill! He just forgot," Kurt said, as (surprisingly) Santana dropped it.

Puck looked up from strumming his guitar, and said, "this is so nice, but I'm just a tiny bit bored." He didn't want to brood tonight about what a mess his senior year had been academically. He was happy to avoid his troubles by participating in a little friendly mischief. "Nice change of subject, by the way Blaine, but maybe you and Kurt need to do a little contest, and I know just the thing."

Blaine couldn't imagine what Puck had in mind, but knew he didn't want New Directions to dwell too long on the subject of an ex-Warbler makeover.

Puck continued, and noticed he now had everyone's attention. "Dudes – why don't you arm wrestle for it? I mean, whoever wins, decides – to makeover, or not makeover – that is the question!" Puck leaned back with a smile, and looked to his friends to see their reactions.

Kurt frowned a little. Blaine actually relaxed, and smiled a bit. He leaned over to kiss his boyfriend, and said, "I don't think he's going to want to do that. I mean, arm wrestling? Really?"

"Yes." Kurt said quietly, before continuing, "sweetie, why not? I'm sure you won't hurt me." Blaine smiled at Kurt, shook his head, and thanked God yet again for his sweet boyfriend. This was probably his way of bowing out of this gracefully, he thought. I mean, he's not going to win, and then we can just drop it. Definitely a graceful way out of this situation. His hair, his clothing choices, weren't things he wanted made over. Certainly not in public!

"OK, Kurt. It. Is. On." He flashed a grin and Finn set up the table and chairs while the New Directions chanted, "wrestle! Wrestle! Wrestle!"

Burt Hummel poked his head outside, wondering what the hell this could be about. The kids all looked happy, there was definitely no alcohol around, and wondered who was going to be doing what? Then he noticed them gathered around a sturdy table, and Finn going over the rules of an arm wrestling match to … Kurt and Blaine? This, he thought, should be good. Unbelievable, given that this wasn't their style, but fun to watch. Probably.

Kurt really didn't have experience in this activity. Which was why he'd read up on it earlier in the day, with Puck eager to give him tips from personal experience – a conversation Blaine would have been confused they were having, to say the least. Feigning surprise at the proposed contest had been easy for him (he was, after all, still surprised he was doing it), and he really admired Puck's part in this little set-up: the boy really could act! He'd kept Finn out of this plot altogether: for one thing, he'd been busy with Rachel, but Kurt also had reservations as to if he could pull the deception off.

Oh well, Kurt thought, as he smiled his softest smile at his boyfriend's beautiful eyes, maybe it's just fate. He fully intended to leave the topic of Blaine's hair alone (well, at least for a long time) if he lost.

Blaine gripped Kurt's hand and they started when Finn gave the word. Everyone was quiet, and then surprised that the contest wasn't immediately over. Instead, Kurt serenely held Blaine's hand, and his arm didn't budge at all. Blaine smiled, and was pleased that Kurt was stronger than people gave him credit for, and then applied more strength to trying to force Kurt's arm down. Kurt's expression didn't change, and his arm still didn't move.

Blaine looked up at Kurt with a puzzled expression, genuinely surprised that they were still doing this. "All right, Hummel" he playfully growled, "prepare for some arm to table action!" And he applied more force.

"Wanky" Santana purred.

"Whose arm, Blaine?" Both of their arms started to show the strain now, as the seconds ticked on. "Mine is still upright, I'm pretty sure."

Blaine concentrated, no longer fearful of hurting the deceptively strong boy in front of him, and now began to worry that he would lose to him.

"Good thing you're still helping the new boy cheerios learn their moves," Santana casually said to Kurt. "You've been a good teacher."

Of course, Blaine thought. He did know that Kurt was stronger than his fashionably clad body usually showed. Looking at their arms, he also told himself that Kurt's longer arms were an advantage too. Hours of lifting the girls, and teaching the boy cheerios how to do it right, had kept him in good form, even though he technically wasn't on the squad anymore. Kurt had never stopped the exercise routine he'd taken on back when he was a cheerio, since he knew it worked for him and kept his body the way he wanted it to look. Blaine's arm, he noticed, was starting to wobble with the strain, and he could only look on as Kurt slowly lowered it to the table.

After the hoots of congratulations died down, and everyone helped clean up, Blaine endured some ribbing from his glee club friends as they said their goodbyes. He didn't mind losing to Kurt so much – he'd never thought Kurt was a wimp and he was in some way proud of how he was stronger than he looked. Blaine also noticed that they weren't as shocked by the outcome as he'd expected, and noted that he really didn't know much about Kurt's cheerio past (and wondered if maybe he could convince Santana to help him with that).

"You know there are lots of physical contests I wouldn't want to engage in with you, right?" Kurt said lightly to Blaine as he put his arm around his waist.

"Mmm, not so much my kind of fun either." Blaine agreed. They both knew he was a good boxer (and Blaine was sure nothing could convince him to face Kurt in the ring, since he was sure in that setting he'd probably harm Kurt). He also fenced pretty well – Kurt hadn't ever done that, so that wouldn't be a fair contest as it stood. Blaine's mind absently wandered to wondering how Kurt would look in fencing attire, when interrupted from his thoughts as Kurt said, "But I did win out there fair and square, you know."

**A/N : Trouble ahead? A sticky (gelly?) situation to be teased out (untangled?), it seems. Hope you enjoyed it, more to come soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. Sometimes, something as simple as a hairstyle can have unexpected significance. Blaine lost the arm wrestle... so the cards are all in Kurt's hands...**

"Yes. You did win fair and square." Blaine pulled Kurt in close and started to kiss him, very quickly switching gears from merely affectionate to gee-I-hope-Burt-isn't-around-just-now intensity. Kurt pulled away, blushing crimson, and kissed Blaine's forehead as Blaine's breathing slowly changed back to normal.

"I think someone has been holding back," Kurt heard Blaine growl, and damn! His voice was going to drive him to distraction right there on the back porch! "I think I need to know a little more about your past, hmm?" Blaine murmured right next to Kurt's ear.

"Right now?" Kurt all but squeaked, as little thrills of pleasure sparked through his body as Blaine kissed his ear, and then wetly nibbled it a little. Think! He chanted to himself! What the hell was I going to focus on. Focusing was so difficult right now. Damn Blaine and his amazing ability to deflect... "Blaine!"

Blaine looked up at Kurt, and suspected he'd been caught. Damn. For a second, insecure thoughts skittered across his consciousness, especially the worst one of all – maybe Kurt wasn't that into him anymore if his blatant flirting, physically practically begging to make out, didn't put other thoughts out of his very beautiful head.

And Kurt caught it right away before it faded – Blaine's momentary look of fright; was he wondering if somehow his advances had lost their charm for him? Kurt cursed himself again for ever putting him through the pain he'd caused with the whole stupid Chandler debacle. Blaine's mask of the dapper, in-control leader type could so easily be dislodged, it was sad. And he felt awful knowing that he was the one most able to make it shatter, but not in a good way.

Guiding his boyfriend to the sliding loveseat on the screened-in back porch, Kurt turned to Blaine in the dim light. His face was full of love and concern, and he kissed Blaine chastely before talking, grabbing a moment to try to say it right.

"Blaine, you know I did win."

Blaine looked a little puzzled. Kurt was definitely competitive; more so than many people would ever expect. But not usually about a feat of athletics. And such a guy thing as an arm wrestle? Where was all this coming from?

"Kurt," Blaine said slowly, raising his eyes to meet Kurt's, "I'm not surprised you could do that. I've never thought of you as weak, in any way." He found Kurt's hands, and held them firmly in his own before continuing. "But, I think this was," and he paused here, choosing his next words carefully, "erm, maybe, a little, staged?"

"Maybe. A little." Kurt looked at Blaine, almost shyly, before continuing, "You're not mad?"

Blaine chuckled. His world was all right. Kurt was worried that his feelings were bruised, and they weren't, not over that. He bent down, kissed Kurt's hands tenderly, and looked at Kurt with his most loving, melted look; then chuckled again at how well it worked – Kurt was so cute sometimes. Well, practically all the time... "No. I mean, the glee club was amused as hell! Some of their faces were so damn funny! Kurt, you're" he paused, then continued, "amazing. I love it that you zig when everyone might expect you to zag, that even an experience like this" and here he lifted their hands for a moment, briefly miming his defeat at his lover's hands, "you somehow manage to conduct it in your very own way." Blaine noted happily the effect his words were having: Kurt looked relieved, visibly relaxing as he spoke. "Maybe, do you want to tell me why you had me lose this bet?"

Uh oh. Kurt knew now that Blaine saw that he'd been set up. However, he seemed to be taking it really well. Maybe his time at Dalton had helped: crazy practical jokes and embarrassment at the hands of your dorm mates was almost a daily occurrence there. Blaine could be oblivious at times, no question of that, but he had figured out this one, at least part of it. "Blaine, I really did like your hair at the prom... you, know, after – "

"After I'd been forced to wash it and try to blow dry it, all the while wearing a tux?"

"Um, yeah that. I did offer to try to help -"

"I know you did. It's all right; I think maybe it's better that I did it alone. I needed time to collect myself before going in."

Kurt felt a little heartsick at how Blaine had felt the need to gather his courage in silence for something that clearly pained him. "I just don't get why this seemed to be so hard ..." His voice trailed off. Blaine was now looking down, his hands shielding his face; never a good sign. Kurt reached over to rub Blaine's back, then drew him closer beside him, rocking a little bit on the swinging loveseat. "This is hard for you. Blaine, honey, it's all right. Don't tell me right now if you don't want to." He went on, voice rising in pitch even as he kept it quiet. "I never should have done that! I'm so sorry! Blaine, I'm dropping it. I will never manipulate you to change for me like that, it's just wrong..."

Then the worst did happen. Kurt looked on in horror as he saw Blaine's tears fall into his lap. He did the only thing he could think of to do, crushing him into a hug, murmuring into his ear as Blaine buried his face on his shoulder. "Ssshhh... no, don't talk just yet... it's all right... shhh... Blaine, I love you so much..." They went on like this, Kurt couldn't tell how long, until Blaine's breathing relaxed, and Blaine pulled away to look with love at this wonderful boy who loved him, despite how awfully fucked up he could be at times. Kurt hadn't minimized what this whole hair thing meant to him, and had given him permission to drop it. Blaine knew him well enough to know that Kurt meant it. Somehow, several minutes and however many tears later was all he'd needed, knowing that the choice was his. Blaine cleared his throat, prepared now to share this pain with Kurt; knowing that Kurt would know what to do, and that the boy looking at him right now with so much love and concern in his eyes would not use what he had to say to harm him.

**A/N : Such a trivial thing, to some people, but Blaine's pain, and his attempts to manage it, have been focused on things he can control in some way. How did a makeover get this complicated? ...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. Sometimes, something as simple as a hairstyle can have unexpected significance. Blaine lost the arm wrestle to Kurt, but Kurt is becoming aware of the need to proceed carefully here...**

**As always, I don't own Glee, or any songs that I might mention here.**

"You know I see you when you look at little curly-headed kids when we're out sometimes," Blaine began, his eyes still threatening more tears. "And I think you're thinking of how maybe that's what I looked like, and maybe how someday we'll have a child like that."

Kurt could only nod, eyes full of sympathy as he continued to rub Blaine's back. He knew when to pull back, when not to comment. Blaine wouldn't have thought to verbalize it just then, but this quality of Kurt's, the ability to be still and quietly supportive when that was what he needed, was another of the many things about Kurt that Blaine loved. It was good that he knew to do this, as Blaine needed to pause before going on. He looked right at Kurt as he continued. "I think it's sweet when you do that. Did you even know I'd seen that?" Kurt smiled, just nodded a small "no", and placed a gentle kiss on Blaine's shoulder, before drawing back to watch his lover's face, and to listen to whatever he needed to say.

Blaine chuckled softly; usually a good sign. "I never corrected your assumption." Kurt frowned a little, confused, but kept silent. "This" Blaine pointed to his hair, "wasn't like that at all when I was a kid. When I was younger, it was pretty much like Coop's." Kurt had met Blaine's famous brother that spring, and Cooper Anderson's handsome hair was straight, with just a touch of a wave to it. "This changed to, well, you saw my hair on prom night – about when my voice finished changing. I finished eighth grade with my old hair, and started high school looking like I did on prom night."

Kurt noticed that Blaine seemed much more relaxed now. Still, this didn't seem to qualify as a deep, dark secret to him, or anything that would have caused Blaine's serious hair gel addiction. He figured there had to be more, so only said, "I guess that was a surprise! Did you get crap for it in high school? I mean, since when are freshmen anywhere fashion plates?"

Blaine looked down at his lap again, then lifted his head to look straight out into the dark night. "No, that wasn't it. I got teased just a little, but really it wasn't a big deal to them. Remember what freshman year is like? New school, but also everyone's bodies changing all over the place! Short of sprouting a rhino horn, that is one year in a kid's life where a change of appearance doesn't draw a crowd." He continued, much quieter, "my parents hated it. A lot. We had fights about it; they wanted me to just go with a super short haircut, and for some reason I yelled right back at them when it came to my hair. It was the first time I'd done that, but they chalked it up to adolescence and moved on to just grumbling about it randomly. It was clear they hated my hair, and this was the first time my father taunted me with 'looking like some kind of a faggot'".

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt held him close for a minute; when he sat up, to let Blaine continue his story, he saw that Blaine's eyes looked hard and bitter, not tear-filled.

Blaine spoke quietly now. "It was right around then that I had started to realize that I was not attracted to girls at all. My parents – especially my father – had made it clear before what their views on gays were, so I knew I couldn't talk to them about this. I didn't know any gay adults, and I definitely didn't know any out kids at the high school yet." Blaine stood up, and paced the length of the back porch, as he quietly went on. "I was afraid of my parents' reaction if I told them. Coop was away, trying to make a career in a profession my parents didn't support, so they didn't help him at all financially. We didn't hear from him much." He stopped pacing, and said looking directly at Kurt, "I missed my big brother, so much. He was so crazy, so fun, that I figured I could tell him when I saw him next face to face, but the months went by, and he stayed away. I didn't know then that it was because he was flat broke and wouldn't ask them for money to come home."

"You didn't have anyone you could talk to?" Kurt whispered. He knew he'd had fears about coming out to his dad, even though Burt had never given him reason to think he'd face rejection. How would you come out to homophobic parents? Kurt felt anger again towards the parents who'd let Blaine down so badly. Blaine was so huggy, so sweet; how did these people manage to react so coldly to him? He silently shook his head.

"I thought of my grandparents. I'm really close to the ones on my father's side. But they were away for the winter, and I wouldn't see them in person until at least May. I wasn't sure if I could really talk to them about this or not, but I think I might have. The horrible comments about my hair didn't let up, by the way. Why my father equates curly hair with being gay, I dunno. Did I tell you I have an Uncle with this hair?"

Kurt thought that was a bit of a change of subject, but he only murmured, "um, no..."

"Well, I learned the next summer that Uncle Rob's hair changed, just like mine did, at about the same age. He's pretty cool, but he was in Germany. He's an Army doctor; his wife is German, and they don't come back here that often."

Kurt was definitely wanting to see some family pictures, and wondered when he would see them.

"I think my father somehow picked up on me not being straight. I thought I was hiding it, but I guess I wasn't doing a good job of that. He didn't accuse me of it directly, but he picked on my hair, picked on my music, mocked my singing, and then abused me verbally for trying out for the musical at the high school." Blaine stopped in his pacing, staring outside at nothing, and broke into silent, wracking sobs.

Kurt was there instantly, just holding him, murmuring softly, "Blaine, honey, I love you so much. No," he said, holding a now sobbing Blaine to his chest, "you don't have to talk. It's all right. Sshh." How on earth could anyone have a mocked this poor child, who lived to sing and play guitar; his voice, Kurt knew, was how Blaine communicated his feelings best of all, and was one of his most winning features, whether speaking or singing. Even his rivals (back before he joined New Directions) gave him full credit there. Mocking his voice was like mocking his very soul, his being. Kurt couldn't imagine how a father could do that, but he knew that Blaine's father had done just that, and worse.

Blaine somehow was able to speak again in a whisper. "I told them I was going to the Sadie Hawkins dance with Adam. It was a horrible fight." More tears fell before he could go on. "I locked myself in the bathroom and got ready, and just sprinted out as soon as I saw Adam's parents' car." He looked down again. "You know some of what happened that night, to Adam and me." Kurt could only nod; he definitely didn't want to make him relive that awful memory. "My parents were shocked at first that I'd been so badly hurt that I needed to be hospitalized for two weeks, with weeks of rehab after. But as my body healed, my father accused me of making myself a target by going out and dancing with a boy like that." Blaine was quiet again for a few minutes. His voice was stronger as he said, "the end of that semester was a nightmare. But my grandparents were furious once they came back for the summer; they knew I'd been beaten up, had kept calling and sending me presents while I was in the hospital and then rehab, but they didn't know that my own father had basically told me I had it coming, for being the despicable homosexual that I was."

Kurt was crying now too, silently, not only out of sorrow, but also in anger at the pain Blaine's parents had added.

"My grandparents took me to their summer cottage on the lake extra early that year. They didn't talk one way or another about my orientation until late in the summer, when I brought it up first. I think they just concentrated on loving me," here Blaine choked back a small sob, and wondered as he did so why this happy, comforting memory made him do so. "Grandmom fed me every chance she got, I had plenty of time to kayak, play my guitar, and just hang out with them. Once in a while I'd hang with other kids on the lake, kids I'd known forever, but mostly I just hung with them, or spent time alone. And I started to get better."

Kurt had heard about Blaine's paternal grandparents before, and was happy to know he was going to meet them soon. How such great people could have produced Blaine's prick of a father, he didn't know. But he was so glad to hear that someone in that family had been able to help him, even if it was late.

Blaine smiled for the first time since he'd started talking about his family. "My grandparents were instrumental in the decision to send me to Dalton, and insisted that I board there as well – I think to get me away from him. And they were right by me that summer, as I worked through the long reading list Dalton sent. And they were there when I got my uniforms in the mail." Blaine's eyes were shining now, a genuine grin forming. "I was so happy to put on that blazer!"

Kurt allowed himself a little laugh here; he'd always thought Blaine was just a bit over-attached to the infamous Dalton blazer, though he admitted that Blaine really did rock that look. The image of a cute fourteen year old Blaine trying on his first Dalton uniform was so damn cute!

"You know how my hair looked for, um, the second half of prom?" Blaine said to Kurt, who nodded and smiled. "Well, it was like that, but a little longer, so it was pretty wild. Grampy suggested I needed a new hairstyle to go with the Dalton uniform. I was ready to do absolutely anything to fit in at Dalton, I was so excited to be going there. If Grampy wanted me to change my hair for that, I was happy to do it." He lowered his voice as he said, "the thing is this: Grampy didn't want me to change my hair because he hated it, or thought it made me 'look like a faggot'; he and Grandmom loved my curly hair! So it was easy for me to do it; for them, and for the new image I wanted to make for myself."

Kurt furrowed his brows a little, as he fondled his love's hair. "Sweetie, I already knew that I'd love them, but honestly, I love them so much more now. But honey... they came up with – this? –" he gestured at Blaine's heavily gelled 'do, for a fourteen year old kid?"

Blaine chuckled a little. "Yup. Exactly like this." He looked a little hurt as he looked at Kurt. "You mean, you really don't like the way I look?"

"No, no, no!" Kurt's mind flew to the image of the first day he'd met Blaine, on the staircase at Dalton, the day Blaine had sung Teenage Dream, and it felt like it was just for him. Enveloping him in a swift embrace Kurt murmured, "I have loved you since the moment I saw you. I know it sounds crazy. But you know this, Blaine. You were – are – the most gorgeous guy I'd ever seen, and believe me, the last thing on my mind was critiquing your hair!" He smiled at Blaine. He hadn't lied, after all. Yes, later, he'd started plotting to rid Blaine of the gel (or at least a bunch of it), but he was sure Blaine would look wonderful in his natural curls, and had been proven right when he'd finally seen them.

Kurt understood much better now. Blaine clearly associated his hair with parental disapproval and rejection, and his usual hairstyle helped him exert control over his hair, and had become part of his image. So much so that almost everyone he knew from high school on would not have guessed what his hair's actual texture was. Prying the gel from Blaine's (figuratively) clenched fingers wasn't something he felt Blaine could handle easily. Damn. He knew Blaine was courageous, even as he was still partly the damaged child he'd been as a freshman. Knowing now what Brittany's no-gel pronouncement must have done to him, it was remarkable he'd done it. Kurt started to cry a little here; he couldn't help it. Blaine had been so scared of rejection based on his hair, and had washed the gel out of his hair and tried to dry and style it (with no products available at all) to be with him at prom. Oh my gaga.

Blaine looked over at Kurt. Whether he guessed what Kurt had concluded or not, he knew that Kurt understood now why he'd had a near panic attack at the prom. Kurt was speechless, gazing at him with love and sympathy. Blaine acted on instinct, pulling Kurt into a kiss that turned passionate quickly. They'd talked long enough, and he knew what he was hungry for.

**A/N : This was not easy to write. I do feel that Blaine's self image is carefully crafted, and suggestions to change it come with heavy baggage. Fortunately, Kurt is an ideal person to understand the significance of this, especially now. Who would think we'd be at chapter 7... hoping you, dear readers, aren't clamoring too loudly for the makeover (yet). I warned you right away, it's complicated ;-)**

**I would love to hear from you, and welcome your thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. Sometimes, something as simple as a hairstyle can have unexpected significance. Blaine lost the arm wrestle to Kurt, but knowing more of the emotional baggage weighing down those lovely locks makes it clear to Kurt that he's going to proceed with caution.**

**However, dear readers, it's been a while … So, as a courtesy to you, I roll out for the first time (drum roll, Finn?) …. thanks …. go ahead and skip right to the [non bold] story if you don't need the recap.**

**Here's what you missed … a recap : The story starts right with the great gel crisis of Promasaurus – and, why all the angst, Blaine? Kurt thought it was cute! Turns out, Blaine wasn't always the adorable mophead we know today: the texture of his hair changed when his voice did (and he also discovered that he was gay). His father hated his hair in particular. After the infamous Sadie Hawkins post dance beating, Blaine went to spend the summer the summer with his really cool grandparents. Donning the Dalton blazer for the first time, granddad suggests getting a new 'do to go with it: and ends with the straight-looking, gelled 'do that we all know today. At a glee club party, Puck plots with Kurt to set Blaine up to lose a contest, settling on an arm wrestle (hey! Kurt's a lots stronger than he looks!) with Kurt getting the right to stage a gel-tervention as his prize. Kurt learns the story of Blaine's hair, and is saddened by how Blaine associates his curly hair with rejection and ridicule, and his signature gelled 'do with dapperness and control of his image. Where to go from there?**

**As always, I don't own Glee, or any songs that I might mention here.**

Blaine sat back against the comfy cushion of the double glider. How, he thought, could making out with this perfect boy make everything right, even if only temporarily. He chuckled, knowing the answer to his own question, as he gazed into Kurt's glasz eyes, seeing the face he loved to look at probably looked as relaxed as he now felt. How could he feel so alone, unlovable, knowing in that moment how much he was loved. Simple. He couldn't. Temporarily, at least, the world was all right.

"I love you, Kurt. So much."

Kurt exhaled, so relieved that the boy who'd been sobbing, heartbroken, telling him about yet another way his own parents had turned away from him and withheld their love, now looked whole again. "Oh, sweetie, I love you too. More than you know."

"Maybe. But I love you more." Kurt arched at eyebrow at hearing this, their silly, old argument that tended to surface when they were like this, relaxed, basking in the moment.

"No chance. But you go ahead thinking that, if you like." Kurt smiled to himself. God, he loved this man. And no makeover would ever be worth messing with his self-esteem. It wasn't, he reasoned, as if he didn't love the way Blaine looked. And, really, setting him up to lose at arm wrestling hadn't been very fair. How Noah knew it would go that way, he didn't know, except maybe he just had a lot more experience with these things; and unlike Blaine, Noah knew exactly just how well he could toss around cheerios and do Sue Sylvester's punishing workouts.

"So. What did you have in mind?" Kurt was shaken from his musings by Blaine's question.

"Huh?" Kurt really was unsure what Blaine meant here. They were on the screened back porch, he probably didn't mean getting any more physical than they'd just been. Had he asked a question? He thought about it, and concluded that he really hadn't. "About what, Blainers?"

Blaine smiled a relaxed smile, holding Kurt's hands, as he said, "my hair, dummy! What did you have in that devious head of yours?"

Kurt was floored. Blaine had shared how his hair issues had traumatized him, and Kurt had decided to drop the subject, knowing now what he didn't then. That Blaine would bring this up, and look so... okay with it? … was baffling to Kurt. "Blaine." He shook his head, looking right at Blaine's eyes, so full of love and trust. "I didn't know how much … baggage this issue had for you. Believe me, if I had, there would have been no silly arm wrestle to force you into changing it! And, well," here he searched for the right way to put this before going on, "I take it back. No way I want to put you through that – "

"That's exactly why, I think, I feel okay with it." Blaine smiled at Kurt, kissed him chastely, and then continued, "because you're letting it be my choice. You are so perfect."

"Blaine? Are you sure? You were so uncomfortable looking at the prom. I see that now. Like I forced you to, I don't know, dance around in your underwear or something. You thought you'd look stupid, but you didn't want to make me leave! And I couldn't convince you that I thought you looked – hot!"

"Well, I'm still not really convinced of that. I think it looked kind of goofy and fluffy. But maybe ..."

The words tumbled out, Kurt felt, almost like they had a mind of their own. "Blaine, your curly hair is adorable, but if you want, we can try some new products! Like, maybe some mousse, to work with it, not try to make it lie flat and straight, 'cause you know it just doesn't wanna."

Blaine laughed at the throaty, sexy way Kurt finished his thought. "Exactly. Who better to help me to find the perfect gel methadone, to break my addiction." And suddenly, he really did feel okay with trying something new. Something involving letting his hair be closer to its natural state. "Do I get to still wear it gelled sometime?"

"Absolutely!" Kurt grinned before going on, "nothing wrong with having choices, right?"

They were interrupted then by Burt, who was not too subtly wondering how it got to be so darn late all of a sudden. It was, in fact, two in the morning; they'd stayed out on the porch a long time after the party guests left.

Blaine was gone after a quick goodnight kiss, and after Kurt received the text Blaine sent when he got home, Kurt went to sleep happy, visions of makeovers dancing in his head.

**A/N : Finally, fluffy klaineness, and a makeover. OK, the makeover is an almost. Soon! By the way, I'd love it if you have thoughts you'd like to share. Specifically, was the recap welcome? I was thinking I'd only do them when there's been a several days gap, but I'd like to hear what you think. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Blaine's hair: it's complicated... A story with roots prior to canon, and definitely not limited to Blaine's beautiful mane. Sometimes, something as simple as a hairstyle can have unexpected significance. Blaine lost the arm wrestle to Kurt, but knowing more of the emotional baggage weighing down those lovely locks makes it clear to Kurt that he's going to proceed with caution. And this chapter? Maybe a _little_ detour. Not hair related. Not strictly, anyway. Enjoy!**

Kurt returned from shopping with Carole the next day, to find Burt busy with his toolbox, at the door to his room. "Hey, dad! What's up?"

Burt looked at his son, finished tightening the screw he was working on, and gestured to the doorknob. "Your door. I just put in a lock for you." And he tossed two keys at Kurt.

Kurt caught them, and looked at his dad with a look of pure confusion. "And you want me to have these why, dad? I mean, sure, Finn barges in without knocking randomly sometimes, but he doesn't borrow my shirts or anything!" They both laughed, knowing that Finn, for one, had a completely different taste in clothes, and two, had a healthy self-preservation instinct: if he'd 'borrowed' Kurt's clothes he'd be lucky to live to regret it!

Burt walked into his son's bedroom, gestured for Kurt to sit too.

"Son, those keys are for you. You can give one to Blaine, if you like." Kurt looked at him, questioning, but didn't interrupt. "I don't think you need to lock your door as a rule, don't expect you to." Burt looked at his son squarely, and said slowly, "but I've been rethinking the open-door rule when Blaine is here." He cleared his throat. "And, well, you boys are old enough, and I think you can make good decisions, and..."

"What, dad?"

"If you need some time, together, sometimes, to be alone... well, I don't want to drive you out of the house. You know what I mean?" He added on, quickly, "You can lock it when you need to." Burt looked over at Kurt, who didn't look confused anymore.

"Dad. You're okay with us having some... alone time... with the door shut." Kurt then added,  
"and locked?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying. I love you, and I want you _safe_. And I trust you to, well, behave considerately, when other people are home..." he trailed off here, figuring his son would get it.

Kurt's eyes had filled with tears, and now they spilled out. He closed the gap between them, and hugged his father tight. "Oh, dad. I love you. What, how, did you decide?" He knew his father understood him, and accepted him unconditionally. And he knew that Burt really did respect Blaine, and would defend him like his own if it came down to that. But a change of house rules wasn't something he anticipated, and he didn't know what had prompted it.

Burt untangled himself from his son's hug, chuckled a little, glad that this was over, that Kurt had understood. "You're getting older, kiddo, and I know if Blaine was graduating too you'd probably want to get a place together in New York." He looked a little sad as he added, "and it's not his fault he's not graduating this year." Kurt nodded, sad about this too. Burt's eyes misted now, as he added, "but I just want you safe. And this is the safest place you can be together. And I know you need time for that sometimes." He looked outside the open door, over to Finn's bedroom. "And Finn," he smiled as he looked at his room, "well you can kind of thank _him_. He's the one got me to thinking..."

Burt remembered the conversation last night. He had fallen asleep around midnight. At around two, he woke up, unfolded himself from out of the living room recliner, and saw the light on in the back porch. Those kids were still up? They were good kids, and he loved Blaine way more than he'd expected to, back when he'd met Kurt's preppy friend who turned into his boyfriend. They had taken the hint, said goodnight when they heard him clumsily hinting at the lateness of the hour, and now, after a drink of water, Burt was ready to go to his own bed. He could just barely hear Kurt singing softly, as he was in his bathroom, probably doing his moisturizing thing.

He'd almost bumped into his tall stepson, Finn, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, joining him in the kitchen.

"Hey, Burt! You're up late." Finn looked happy, maybe a little tired.

"Pot calling the kettle black, Finn?" The boy smiled at his comment. "You know how it is. I'd crashed after the game was over, then woke up, reminded Blaine to go on home, I mean it was two AM, after all..."

He was cut off in mid-story by Finn. "Um, Burt? There was something I was meaning to … ask you about … maybe more like a suggestion, maybe." Burt had looked at Finn. Finn didn't usually cut him off, always polite to the man who'd become like a second father to him. And trying to give him a suggestion? That wasn't like him. Usually Finn seemed happy with how Burt and Carole ran the household. He sounded unsure about what he wanted to say (that part at least was familiar Finn).

"Son. You do realize it is late. Can this keep 'till tomorrow, you think?"

"Um, if you want. But, well, it's quiet now, just the two of us ..."

Burt had taken pity on the teen. He looked like he just wanted to say whatever it was he had on his mind, and maybe they'd both sleep better if he just got it out. He sat at the kitchen table, pointed to a chair for Finn, sighed a little, before saying, "Finn. It's all right. You've got my attention. What's eating you?"

Finn sat down, and almost seemed to become a different, surer person as he looked squarely at Burt, all business, sure of what he wanted to say. "Remember when Kurt and Blaine went for a walk, and they had a picnic in the park?"

Burt hadn't really known where Finn was going with this, and his brows furrowed as he quickly decided to just say, "Sure. What about it? There wasn't a problem, was there?" They had both seemed okay for the party.

"That's the thing, Burt. Uh, well, it's not all okay." Finn looked at Burt, who probably looked as confused to the teen as he felt. "Not like that." Finn continued, much faster, as if trying to get out a speech he'd gone over a few times. "Rach and I were there, in that same park, the same day. And here's the thing: no one minds if we kiss, or cuddle, we can be fairly physical out in public … but then I looked at Kurt and Blaine. They were up the path a ways from us, we didn't join them. But, it's not right, Burt! They love each other, but they barely touch fingertips when they're out at a place like that."

Burt had nodded, knowing it to be true. The boys were in fact very sensible, careful in how they acted in public, agreeing that they did not want to attract hostility. He waited, figuring there was more. Finn noted his look, and then went on.

"If they want to be at all affectionate, in most places doing that could be really dangerous! You never know when some stupid jerks might -"

"Finn! You think I don't know that! You think I don't worry about them?"

"No, sir, I know you do. Here's the thing. Ah, your open door policy?" Burt knew he had raised his eyebrows, but Finn kept going, "Maybe it's not so good. For them. I mean, if they need some alone time, outside, or away from home, it could be really unsafe. Maybe it's just safer to trust them, and allow them to be alone here?"

Burt had gone from being surprised that Finn would suggest such a thing, to realizing that he agreed with Finn, when you put it like that. Finn was almost knocked over by Burt's sudden embrace, as he said to Finn, "You know, kiddo, you really are a great brother. Kurt is lucky to have you!"

The next morning, Burt had purchased the lock kit at the home improvement store, hoping to beat Kurt and Carole, and have it in before they got home. And he nearly had.

**A/N : All right, a little off topic maybe. Gentle readers, I confess to being guilty as charged. And I will come clean here; this story will have more to it than just Blaine's makeover, which was never about just one thing anyway. More soon! I do welcome your reviews; let me know what your thoughts are on my meandering!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So, it's now chapter 10 (gadzooks!) … who knew Blaine's relationship with his hair gel could be **_**that**_** complicated? All kidding aside, time to get right back to our story… As always, I don't own Glee, or any song, movie, etc. that may crop up, don't sue me!**

Kurt was happy. All felt right with the world today. Shopping with Carole this morning had been fun, as always: he enjoyed her company, and before going to their last stop to get groceries, they'd had fun going to the salon store and selecting mousse – for Blaine! She knew all about the arm wrestle (and had congratulated him on it, of course), and Kurt had told her a little about why the idea of a makeover had been more delicate to engage in than he'd at first expected it to be. He suspected she'd filled in some blanks on her own: Carole's ability to see what made people tick (or not) stemmed from her combined intuition and analytical skills. She'd told him she approved of him going about this with care.

After lunch, Kurt had found a perfect little light turquoise colored box in his closet. After putting the new key onto a keychain with the logo from the film "Milk" on it, he'd wrapped up the box with a white ribbon, happy with the effect (which looked almost like a Tiffany's present). He popped it into the bag which already held the mouse he was bringing over to Blaine's house.

He texted: "OK, I'm leaving now. Can't wait to see you! –K"

Before he'd even gotten into his Navigator, he smiled at the return message: "Great! I'll be ready! B."

Kurt was glad the ride was short. Part of him wondered if this was even a good idea; they'd texted back and forth this morning, and Blaine said he was ready to give Kurt's idea for his hair a try. His parents were away for the day, so Kurt could do his hair at Blaine's, away from the bustle of the Hudson-Hummel house on a Sunday. He held the bag in his hands as he waited anxiously for Blaine to open the door to his house.

"Kurt! Come on in!" The hurt of the night before seemed vanished, and Kurt was happy to accept his boyfriend's kiss once inside. "Mmmm… am I too sappy if I tell you I already missed you?"

Kurt smiled at Blaine, whose eyes were so full of love. "Never." Noticing his freshly washed, nearly dripping hair, Kurt said gently, "You sure about this? It's really OK –"

"Yes!" Kurt was glad to see that his expression looked open, relaxed. "I mean, I trust you! I'm willing to give your idea a try" and pointing to his freshly shampooed hair, he finished, "as you can see."

Kurt frowned just a little, then said, directing Blaine to the kitchen to sit down, "Good. But, it's still possible it won't work just right without a cut… I dunno … let's just try!"

Blaine made a happy, humming sound when Kurt towel dried his hair a bit, then massaged some of the mousse into his hair. He closed his eyes, and lost himself in the sensation of Kurt's fingers on his scalp, the light citrusy smell of the mousse, and the nearness of Kurt's body. He chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"If I'd known how great getting you to do my hair would feel, I would have done it a long time ago. Mmm… can you do this every day?" He hummed happily as Kurt planted a light kiss on the back of his neck, before his hands were withdrawn, then one was back in action, while the other wielded the blow dryer.

Only a couple of minutes later, Kurt proudly announced to Blaine, "Yes! This _sooo_ works for you! And it's going to be so easy for you to do!" He tugged at Blaine to come with him to go look at the results in the powder room mirror.

Blaine was smiling even before he got there. Kurt was so obviously pleased with his work, and he really was curious to see it for himself. Kurt was quiet, waiting for Blaine's response.

"Wow, Kurt!" He looked at himself. It was still curly (which had kind of been the point, he knew, but still, he didn't know what he'd expected), but instead of a disorganized, slightly frizzy mass his curls were shining, defined, and fell softly around his face. "I … I like it! I think …"

"Blaine, this looks great on you! I knew it would!" Kurt played with a curl near Blaine's ear, and continued, "it's really just your real curls, with just a little bit of control. You look stunning, Blaine." He smiled, before adding, "but then you always have. Don't ever think I thought otherwise." He played idly with Blaine's curls a bit more as they stood in front of the mirror. "Makes it fun to do … this… even more."

"How could I stand between you and fun?" Blaine looked to Kurt, and seemed to forget all about the mirror and anything else as he pulled Kurt into a crushing embrace. Kurt exhaled in relief – he didn't think it was possible that Blaine would have failed to see how gorgeous he looked, but he had been just a tiny bit worried. In this position, Blaine couldn't see the small smirk that flitted across Kurt's face as he reflected that Blaine's new look would take much less time to style than his own hair did. Then he remembered the rest of the contents of the bag.

"Blaine, I have something for you." Breaking away, he took Blaine's hand, and led him back to the kitchen, where he reached into the bag to produce the light blue box.

Blaine looked questioningly at Kurt, as if to ask what this was for, when Kurt went on, "Well, I wrapped it. But what's inside is actually from dad." Blaine reached for the small beribboned box that Kurt held out to him. Opening it, he peeked at the key and keychain.

"Kurt, you _are_ going to tell me, I don't have a clue here!"

Kurt took the box, put it back down on the table, and held Blaine's hands in his own. "Dad was finishing up putting a lock on my door when I got back from shopping with Carole. He gave me two keys, and said I could give on to you." Blaine's eyes had started to fill with tears as he listened to Kurt. Kurt's voice hitched a little as he finished, "he said he wants us to be able to have a place to be together, alone, that is safe."

Blaine was shocked. He and Kurt had not questioned Burt's house rules; he would never have objected to Burt's guidance since Burt had been so clear in telling him that he cared about him and accepted him. He figured the key was really ceremonial; the only person he cared about being alone in that room with was in his arms, and the lock was keep the world out, not him. Kurt saw that once again his boyfriend was tearing up, this time with tears of happiness.

Blaine whispered, "Kurt, I love you. So much."

"I love you more."

Blaine replied, his voice stronger now, "Not possible."

**A/N : Did we ever doubt the result? Of course, we do know that Darren looks Totally Awesome, with what I surmise is a bit of mousse, very minimally handled curls (so, there we get to cheat). After the last chapter, I wondered what you, dear readers, thought of Burt's home improvement project! I did think his action was consistent with canon, given the reason prompting it. Thoughts, (hint, reviews), anyone?**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Sorry, dear readers, that it's been a while since I've been able to post another chapter! I won't bore you with the whys, and will instead get right to what we came here for. OK?**

**As always, I don't own Glee, or any of the characters.**

Blaine turned away from the window, tearing himself away from Kurt's car leaving, as he trudged up to his room to finish his end of term English paper, and study for the physics final. One more way he was feeling oppressed by not being a senior this year: having to do this tiring end-of-semester stuff, when the seniors were all done and in full-time play mode. Opening his laptop, he allowed himself a small smile as he remembered their conversation of just a few minutes ago.

"It's hard for me to go, too." Kurt had kissed him lightly, then looked back at Blaine as he stood near the door. "But I'm not going to be the one to ruin your grades, Blaine Warbler. And you know you can text me, or call me, or Skype me –"

He'd been interrupted in his recital of ways Blaine could reach him by Blaine's sudden and forceful embrace, with a kiss not at all chaste, which he of course gave in to right away. When he needed to breathe, he pulled back to look at Blaine a little closer. "B.? Did you change your mind? I'll stay if that's what you really want?"

Blaine nodded his head, eyes changing from sad to resigned (a change probably only Kurt could appreciate). "No, Kurt. It's all right. It's almost supper time, they're going to be back soon, and some of this just goes better if I try to keep the distractions down." Kurt had frown/smiled at the distractions part of that speech. "And, yes, you are my favorite distraction ever -"

"Naturally."

"—But I'll know that you're there for me. And your texts are the Best. Study. Break. Ever."

Kurt had laughed lightly, quickly depositing another goodbye kiss, and left him to do the work he'd been putting off.

It wasn't just the work though, Blaine reflected. Although the driven student in him was still very alive, he'd also wanted to shield Kurt from more awkward encounters with his parents. These weren't always completely awful, but Blaine knew he could never be sure how things would go. Control, so important to him, wasn't something he had when it came to his parents, especially his father. Avoiding the potential drama (and hurt to Kurt) was prudent today, he reasoned. He really did have work to do.

Blaine had been successful in focusing on his English paper. He'd even sent it to Kurt, then talked with him about it. He knew that Kurt could be trusted to be frank and truthful in his feedback on academic topics, and his insights had led to a few improvements. Of course, the lingering conversation after that had been fun too. Fortified by a sandwich and iced tea after that, he'd turned to reviewing for the physics final, loving the feeling of the pencil in his hands as he worked out sample problems, his calculator at the ready.

It was almost dark by the time his parents came home. Looking at his pocket watch, he was surprised by the time, figured they must have eaten already. He was interrupted from his work by his mother's voice as she called up the stairs to him.

"Blaine? We're back. We brought you some Chinese takeout from that place you like, what's it called? We just decided to eat there after golf with the Farleys."

Getting up from his desk and stretching, Blaine came downstairs. "Thanks, mom."

"Blaine? What the hell is up with that hair!" His father yelled at him as Blaine made his way to the bottom of the stairs. He'd actually forgotten about that – Blaine hadn't given it much thought after Kurt left, it really did feel natural, and comfortable. "What the fuck did you do? Did your goddamn faggy boyfriend give you a goddamn perm or something!"

That was it. Blaine immediately bristled at the slight directed at Kurt. His mother watched him turn white as he faced his father. "Really." Blaine's voice was quiet, almost calm sounding. "Good evening to you too, _father_." She watched as his hands betrayed the seeming calm, balled into fists at the boy's side. "This" he pointed at his hair, "is my hair. My actual hair." His voice then became suddenly loud. "My hair that for whatever reason God decided was going to be just like this! What the fuck kind of parent are you if you –"

"Don't you dare talk that way to me!"

" – don't even know that this is my own, natural hair!" Blaine was now breathing heavily, and his mother stepped between him and his father.

"Blaine! Go to your room. Now!" She emphasized her command with a shove at his chest, which seemed to prompt him to process what she'd said.

He obeyed her, going back up a few steps, then turned to yell at his father, "Why do you hate my hair so much? Maybe you just hate –"

His father charged him, caught him by the shirt, and slammed him against the oak bannister. "You look like a fucking faggot from the fucking '70s with that stupid gay hair! Why do you have to be like that?"

"Stop it!" Blaine watched numbly as his mother tried to force her husband to back away. "Stop it, both of you! Blaine, get out of here, now!" She yelled shoving the elder Anderson towards the kitchen. "Go!"

Blaine sprinted up the stairs, ran to his room, and slammed the door shut, hard, as his breath started to come in the heaves that would precede sobbing. His father heard the loud slam and in seconds was there, opening the door so it banged loudly against the wall of Blaine's room. "I told you never to slam that, or any other, door in this house! Do you think this conversation is over?" he yelled, grabbing Blaine's shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise, forcing him to face him. "Why the hell are you always crying! Dammit, you tell me you're 'gay', and you insist it's not a choice. That is bullshit! Then all you want to do is hang around with that fucking boyfriend of yours, and now on top of it you look like goddamn Shirley Temple!"

Blaine shoved him back, and hated the tears that he couldn't stop, hated that his voice would sound weakened by sobbing. "I don't know, father, why would I cry?" He sobbed, looked at his father, and went on, "nothing I do is good enough for you. Nothing changes the fact that you hate me for being gay. This hair – " he gulped air, tried to be steady before going on, "is how I'm made. And it kills me that you _know_ this! And you! You make fun of me for it! What is _wrong_ with you!" Blaine saw the look of rage in his father's face and quickly retreated further into his room. He saw that his mother was standing at the doorway to his room now. "You're my parents! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Damn you! You – you worthless little piece of shit!"

"Blaine! Go!" His mother yelled as she pulled frantically at her husband's arm. He looked out of control, and was no longer speaking. She knew that if he switched to actions alone now it would be a disaster. Blaine looked over at her, pulled out his cel, and in two keystrokes had completed his message. He had been fast enough to send it, but not fast enough for his father not to notice.

"What the fuck is that!" Before Blaine could react, he'd torn the cellphone away from Blaine's hand and threw it hard against the opposite wall, breaking the phone on impact. "I didn't get you that fucking…" Blaine was already retreating down the stairs, not waiting for him to finish. He ran out the back door to the side street at the back of his house.

Kurt was getting out of his shower, when he looked to his cellphone on the table in the bathroom. He smiled, happy that his hardworking boyfriend was ready for another study break. He froze as he saw the simple text: a number 5. Nothing else. Pulling on the clothes he'd discarded before showering as fast as possible, he ran to his father, who was watching a ballgame in the living room. "Dad! I need to go to Blaine _now_ – something's happened!"

Burt immediately saw that his son was panicked, scared in a way he'd hardly ever witnessed. "All right! Where is he? What do you want me to do?"

"No time, Dad," he said, pressing the keys into his father's hand. "Dad, please! Drive!"

They were on the road, heading towards Blaine's house before Burt understood why. He was glad to do it; Kurt looked far too distracted to drive. "Son, what is going on! We're almost there – what are we getting into?"

Kurt looked on the verge of tears, pale, with his hands clenched together. "I don't know for sure. He hasn't texted back since then, and it went to voicemail just now when I tried to call." He put his phone away. "Dad, we'd worked out a code. If Blaine ever needed me to get him, from his home, in an" he paused, took a breath, "an … emergency, if he texted me the number 5 and nothing else, I would know that I needed to be there because he was in danger."

Burt didn't know what to say, but concentrated on driving. "Dad, no, go to the road that goes behind the house…" Soon after he did so, a frightened-looking Blaine emerged from the tree he'd been hiding behind.

**A/N Another chapter soon, I promise not to leave it there for long!**

**Reviews, of course, would be welcome. After how hard that was to write, I feel like I need a [virtual] hug!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Blaine and his hair gel … it's complicated. As promised, a [relatively] quick update to the story is here now – could not leave it hanging where it was! As always, I love Glee, but don't own it.**

"Blaine! Get in!" Kurt got out of the front seat, opened the door to the back seat, and kept watch while Blaine rushed beside him to get in. He was in beside him, with Burt pulling away almost before he'd closed the door.

"Sweetie, are you OK? Blaine, talk to me!" Kurt's face was pinched, anxiety openly showing as he gazed at Blaine, who had not yet said anything at all.

Burt glanced at the teens in the back seat as he eased onto the main road. He was sure now that whatever had prompted this distress call and pickup of his son's boyfriend, no one was following them. Kurt looked like he wanted to Blaine to tell him everything, whatever it was. Burt caught his son's eye, giving a short nod "no" and hoping to tell him to wait for Blaine to speak. Burt worried about the boy too: he looked shocked, whiter than he thought Blaine _could_ look, and he was staring ahead, looking at nothing in particular. Not looking at his boyfriend, who was on the edge of losing it, he could tell.

Burt spoke softly, "Blaine, you're safe now. It's OK if you don't want to talk yet, son. Breathe." And he turned on the radio, finding a baseball game that he left on, hoping the mundane background noise would be calming.

Kurt looked at Blaine, not knowing how to cope with his silent, traumatized boyfriend. He'd responded instantly to his distress text, would do so again without hesitation, but still didn't know what he had saved him from. If the tears and sobs of the night before had been hard to witness, he reflected that this was somehow even worse. His dad was probably right, though, so Kurt restricted himself to covering Blaine's clenched fists with his hands, and murmuring, "I love you. So much." Then he couldn't stop the tears brimming in his eyes. He couldn't see any obvious injury, and had never seen Blaine like this. Blaine was usually quick to seek reassurance, especially physically.

Blaine felt tears on his forearm, and seemed to shake himself away from the terrifying nothingness that he'd retreated to, knowing instantly that these tears were Kurt's. He turned to face him, and Kurt immediately lunged forward to embrace him tightly, rubbing his hands across Blaine's back. Kurt was shocked: Blaine let out a loud whimper, the first sound he'd made so far.

"Honey? I'm so sorry! What hurts? What did I do?" Kurt drew back a little, horrified that Blaine was hurt and he'd made it worse.

"It's … it's OK, as long as you don't squeeze too hard." Blaine said, very quietly. Tears started to slowly drop, as he cleared his throat, and went on, "Kurt, Mr. Hummel, I am so glad you came for me." He sobbed a bit then, but quickly brought his arms around his own torso, as if bracing himself. Kurt held him, very carefully now, and patted his back very softly, whispering into Blaine's ear as the boy buried his head on his chest, "We're almost home. It'll be all right, shh…"

Burt pulled into his driveway, and opened the door for Blaine. He was still worried that the boy had hardly spoken, and wanted to know what the specifics of the emergency were. He could guess, looking at how badly traumatized the teen looked, but knew he could not attempt to do anything about his assumptions until he knew more.

A worried-looking Carole met them, just home from her shift, still in her scrubs. Burt quietly took her aside, told her what he knew, and went to his son. Blaine hadn't moved from where he now stood, near the front door, his arms wrapped around Kurt, pale and trembling. Burt crossed to where they were, said to Blaine, "Son, you can talk to me whenever you're ready. No hurry, though, OK?" And finding Kurt's eyes, added to his son, "Go to bed. Keep Blaine with you; we're here for you, son; wake us up if you need to." Burt shared a worried glance with Carole, as they went off to their room. He was sure they wouldn't sleep for a long time, but he waited until the door had closed before asking her.

"Honey, what the hell do you think happened? Poor kid looks shell-shocked, I don't know what to do for him! I don't think Kurt does either," he shook his head sadly.

"I'm just glad he got help. I don't think he'd want me to look him over though." She rubbed Burt's arm, trying to reassure him. This man is such an amazing father, she thought. "Did you see anything?"

"No. Nothing obvious. But I know Blaine… something really awful must have happened. Did you know why we high-tailed it out of here?"

"I was wondering… I saw that no one was home. It didn't surprise me that maybe the boys were out, but I expected you to be here. What happened?"

"Kurt came to me, really upset. Said Blaine had speed-texted him a one-character message, a number 5, and asked me to drive him there immediately. On the drive over, he told me they'd developed that as a distress call, for emergencies. Kurt had me pull up to the road in back of their house, and that's when Blaine came out of some trees he'd hidden in and got in the car. He hasn't been able to tell us anything yet – poor kid can barely talk!" Burt looked on the verge of tears as he continued. "When he got in, he looked, I dunno, frozen! Staring straight ahead, white as a goddamn sheet!"

Carole held her husband and murmured into his chest, "Honey, you know you did the best thing in the world for him, and for Kurt. You got him away, and we'll figure it out. I love you so much."

Kurt had guided Blaine over to his bed. He still didn't really know much, only that it involved a fight with his father, that he couldn't contact him after the distress signal because his father had smashed his cel right after, and that if he held him close Blaine whimpered. This disturbed Kurt, but Blaine was hardly making sense once he'd gotten him to talk at all; what comforted him the most was when Kurt had very carefully held him, and rocked him in his arms. Kurt had figured it out that talking at all seemed to only upset Blaine worse, so he'd backed off from that for now. Sensing that Blaine had fallen asleep, he'd carefully laid him on the pillows, eased himself beside him, and stared out into the night.

He must have fallen asleep after a while, because he woke up to the sound of Blaine softly moaning in his sleep beside him. "Blaine!" he whispered urgently. "Blaine! Wake up! You're here with me, sweetie, you're safe!"

Blaine's eyes fluttered open, and he reached to embrace Kurt, then drew back, whimpering, with a sharp intake of air. "Kurt… I wasn't dreaming anything. What happened?" He looked confused to Kurt.

"You were moaning in your sleep, Blaine! Please tell me what's wrong!" Blaine could barely see Kurt in the dark room, but the worry and concern were clear in his lover's voice.

"I… I don't know, Kurt. It just hurts, so bad. I wish I hadn't wakened you – "

Kurt snapped on the bedside light and fought back the panic he felt rising. Blaine was pale, and clammy all over. He couldn't identify it, but something else was off too. "Blaine. Stay right here. I'm getting Carole." He eased out of bed, gave a single knock to his dad's bedroom, and lightly shook Carole's sleeping form. "Carole! I think something is wrong with Blaine! I'm really worried!"

Carole rolled over, and seemed to awaken instantly. "Burt, we may need you." Burt woke slower, seeing his wife's retreating form, followed by Kurt.

Carole was at Kurt's bedside, and turned on the brighter, overhead light. "Blaine, honey, what hurts?"

Blaine turned to her, realizing that denying whatever was going on wasn't going to work, but not knowing what to tell her. Everything? Breathing? Moving? Rolling over? All of these were suddenly very hard to do, as was focusing on her.

Carole took in the sight of the boy on the bed, disliking his pallor, noticing his clamminess, and seeing on his face a look she knew too well as a nurse: severe pain. She waited, and he said, "everything. Breathing."

She nodded. Kurt was standing beside her, looking panicked. "Kurt, I need you to very gently help Blaine onto his back." He nodded, and from Blaine's other side helped ease him onto his back, like she'd asked him to, which prompted a muted yelp from Blaine, who shut his eyes tight, a tear leaking out from each side. "Blaine, I'm going to lift your shirt, to look at your chest." His eyes still closed, he nodded assent. She slowly lifted his shirt. Kurt winced, seeing the bruises on his ribcage, but Carole was much more alarmed at having her suspicion confirmed: the boy's breathing was too fast, and it was asymmetrical. She instantly changed to nurse mode. "Kurt, call 911, then hand me the phone after you tell them where we are. Right now!" Turning back to Blaine, who was looking at her with fear, her voice immediately softened as Kurt raced to obey her. "Blaine, you need help; you're not breathing right, and you need more help than I can do right here. Hold my hand, honey, we're here for you, it's going to be better."

He listened to her, and nodded, glad to not have to talk. He'd been hurting when he'd drifted off to sleep, but had never experienced anything like this. Breathing was so hard; he wanted at the same time to greedily gulp air and to not breathe at all, as every breath was agony. He looked up as Kurt nodded at his step mother, saying, "they're ready to talk to you."

"Thank you. He's going to need oxygen; he's tachycardic and tachypnic, pale, suffered what looks like a blunt chest trauma. … Yes, he's conscious, awake and alert … Yes, that's what I think too. Thank you." Kurt hadn't understood all of that, but Carole and the dispatcher seemed to have an idea what to do. Blaine looked frightened, and breakable. He returned to Blaine's side, holding his hands in one hand, stroking his hair with the other. "What can I do?"

"Just what you're doing, honey. Blaine, try to take easy breaths, watch me, and do what I do." He found that copying her breathing, breathing through pursed lips, did help a little. He felt himself calming down. Finn appeared at the doorway, and Blaine now saw Burt, wondered how long he'd been there, at the foot of the bed.

"Mom, what's going on?" Finn could see that Blaine wasn't right.

"Finn, can you go get some washcloths, a couple damp and a couple dry?" He nodded, and quickly reappeared with what she'd asked for. "Thanks, honey. We've called an ambulance, it should be here really soon. " She washed his face and clammy torso, then patted them dry.

Minutes later, Burt led the EMTs up to Kurt's bedroom. Kurt watched as they seemed to do five things at a time: get a report from Carole, a reading on Blaine's oxygen level, applied an oxygen mask, eased him onto a stretcher, and talked to the ER team to tell them what to expect. He heard random phrases he didn't understand, especially whatever the hell an Oh two sat was (that was kept coming up), and followed mutely as Blaine was eased into the ambulance.

"You! Kid, you're Kurt, right?" the EMT called to him.

"Yes – "

"Can you get in here? Blaine is asking for you."

**A/N Fortunately, Blaine is in good hands. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but will try to update again tomorrow night. Some unexpected people are going to be surfacing in this story; I wonder if you have any guesses? Things are going in the right direction, I swear. They're probably giving Blaine pain medication in the ambulance ride, they know what they're doing! (and they know Carole would kick their butts if they failed to take good care of Blaine!) Eventual sweet klaineness, this is a spoiler I will personally give you. Now, if you'd like to share your guesses about any of this, or give me feedback, you know I'd love to hear from you. Who in the gleeverse do you think will show up? I wonder. I'm guessing (if I do my job right) that it will surprise you but not be nonsensical. Really. I owe you that!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Butterfly effect? A small thing can signify something much larger, and actions can (and often do) have unintended consequences. On to our story… of course I don't own Glee or its characters.**

Blaine woke up, feeling stiff and a little pained in the right side of his ribcage. He knew exactly where he was: St. Rita's Medical Center. He'd been struggling to breathe, and that same place in his right ribcage area had hurt so bad, and Carole had known to get him help right away. He'd been awakened by the medical staff many times during the night, and was feeling groggy. He smiled over at Kurt, who was sound asleep in the lounge chair beside his bed, and holding his left hand. He felt the oxygen tubing at his nose, and cautiously explored the tube leading out of the right side of his chest. He was so glad they'd allowed Kurt to be with him, once the chest tube had been placed. He remembered what had happened, so vividly.

"Blaine, you have a partially collapsed lung, in the right lower lobe. It's called a simple pneumothorax. You are going to need a chest tube in for a day or two to drain it, but you're going to be OK. We'll sedate you for the procedure." The young doctor had explained it all, and soon it was over; after he was cleared from the surgical recovery suite, Kurt and his family were waiting for him in his hospital room. He remembered feeling so glad that breathing didn't feel so desperate anymore, and the pain was there but manageable. And he forgot it immediately as soon as Kurt was beside him. Once settled into his bed, he fought to stay awake, saying goodbye to Kurt's family, and so relieved when Carole worked it out that Kurt would be allowed to stay with him. Once it was just the two of them, he drifted to sleep, holding Kurt's hand.

"Dr. Westin, I'm still concerned about this boy's injuries. He begged us not to call his parents last night, and from these films," the radiologist pointed to the chest xrays, "it's not just that we see how _this_ pneumo happened. Look along this line here, and over here… these cracks, and healed over spots look like he's been injured like this before."

"Thanks, Jenny, I didn't even see all of those. Fortunately, he did get here in time; I think he'll make a full recovery, from his physical injuries anyway." He sighed, looking up momentarily. "I know, you've heard it before, but it's so frustrating: I know how to fix this," he pointed to the partially collapsed lung field on the xray in front of them, "but the rest… "

Jenny Adler looked with concern at the young doctor. "You know, we've got a fresh pot of coffee over here. How about some?"

"Jody, is that Blaine's tray?" The dietary tech nodded at the nurse. "I got it, I need to go check on him anyway."

"Thanks, Barb." The busy tech was grateful for any help in the busy morning breakfast rush.

Barb grabbed his tray, set it down, checked Blaine's vitals on the chart again, and carried the tray in to the room, stopping for a moment as she did so. He was awake, and smiling at his sleeping boyfriend, and they were holding hands. She thought they were so cute.

"Blaine Anderson?" He nodded to her, and smiled. "Good morning. I'm your nurse today, and" turning to the whiteboard, she wrote her name on the RN slot, "my name is Barbara. You can call me Barb for short, if you like. Everyone here does."

"Um, hello. Nice to meet you." Kurt woke up, and smiled at his boyfriend's ability to be dapper, even under these circumstances.

"I'm just going to look and listen, see how you are, then you can have some breakfast." Kurt watched her as she used her stethoscope, fiddled with the chest tube and its suction settings, examined the dressing around where it connected to Blaine, and asked him about his pain.

"It's really not too bad. The only thing that I really notice is if I take a deep breath, or move too quickly."

She'd seemed happy with that, and soon Blaine had breakfast in front of him. He tried to share some of it with Kurt, and he insisted that a lot of it was pretty decent. Kurt laughed when he tried the coffee, which was evidently not so great.

"That bad, huh?" He'd leaned over and kissed Blaine chastely. "Would you like something a little better?"

Kurt's heart melted as Blaine fixed him with a puppy dog look, "I thought you'd never ask. Besides, sweetie, you need some food too." Barb watched as Kurt left the room, and went in, closing the door after him.

"Blaine, I wanted to ask you this when I could talk to you alone – "

"It really is all right to talk about anything you need to with Kurt here."

She nodded. "Just protocol for this: Blaine, how did this injury happen?"

Blaine looked suddenly paler, the nurse observed at once. He looked outside, his voice a whisper. "It happened at home." He swallowed, twisted his hands on the sheets, then turned to look at her. "My father. He was really angry with me. We argued. And he slammed me into the bannister, and shoved me into the wall a couple of times. Kurt and his dad came and got me away, and then later they took me here, when Carole could see that I was having trouble breathing."

Barb patted Blaine's hand, her own eyes moist as she thought of how much she hated seeing this kind of injury. She knew that they had to report this, and was praying they'd be able to help prevent more episodes like this one. "I know that was hard to say. Thank you for telling me. Blaine, this isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

Blaine looked pained but kept his voice level. "No, it's not. It's fairly rare for him to hit me like that, especially recently, but no, this has happened a few times." He cleared his throat, looking down, "It started when I was a freshman. When he gets really angry at me, he'll do this. My mother tries to yell at him to make him stop. She did that last night, but it didn't work right away." He looked down, not wanting the nurse to see the tears that had started.

Kurt came in with two coffees, and a bagel for himself. He saw that Blaine was crying, and seated himself back in the recliner on Blaine's left. The nurse patted his shoulder, and said to Blaine, "we don't have to talk about this anymore right now. I'm going to leave you with your friend, all right?"

Blaine nodded and she left. Kurt moved to sit beside him on the bed, one arm around his shoulders, the other hand reaching for Blaine's.

Burt came in later that morning. He'd told the hospital intake nurse what he knew of the events of last night, but admitted that he didn't know the details of what had happened at the Anderson house; as Blaine had been so distraught, they had figured it could wait until the morning. Kurt had done a good job keeping him up to date, and had even emailed Blaine's English essay to his teacher (since Blaine had sent him a copy of the paper to look at earlier). Finn had talked to Principal Figgins, who discussed the situation with Blaine's teachers, who had all assured him that they would work out other arrangements for Blaine's finals.

The Glee club decided to mobilize well before practice time. Rachel was determined to see that Blaine was showered with attention and gifts, and Finn was content to step back and watch her go into action. They quickly assembled a basket of some of Blaine's favorite candies (Kurt was happy to help in their plot, and also warned them away from hugging or grabbing Blaine), and Quinn and Tina picked out flowers. Brittany produced a glittery card for them all to sign, and they were on their way, with Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury.

Sam brought his guitar, and soon they were there. The nurses were glad to allow New Directions in, as long as they promised to keep the door closed and try hard to keep the volume down. Kurt could hear them coming, and smiled as Blaine heard them too, and broke into a huge smile as his friends swarmed his room.

"Wow! I can't believe you're all here!" And then it seemed like everyone was excitedly talking at once, and Rachel and Mercedes presented the basket, while Tina and Quinn placed an arrangement of bright Gerbera daisies on his bedside table. "This is so incredible! I love you guys so much." Kurt had warned them not to ask about what had happened, and they were good at obeying his directive. They were not inhibited at all, however, from fretting over his condition, and vowing to be there for whatever he needed.

"Blaine, we'd like to sing for you. Sam, you ready?" Mr. Shue asked the blond boy, who nodded that yes, he was, and Kurt got up to join the group, as they started to sing:

Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow.

But if we are wise, we know that there's always tomorrow.

Lean on me, when you're not strong and I'll be your friend.

I'll help you carry on, for it won't be long 'til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on…

Blaine listened, becoming increasingly teary as the song went on, face shining with a broad smile as they finished. While they'd agreed to keep the volume down, even a quiet version of New Directions was audible to the staff outside the room, who gathered around to hear them, sharing smiles together.

Soon after, he was accepting their goodbyes, and beaming at his boyfriend. "You did this, didn't you?"

"Nope. I'd like to say I did, but all it took was for them to know you were here."

Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury came back in by themselves, and exchanged a concerned look. "Blaine, you know they're going to have to contact your family, right?"

"I know. The hospital social worker was in to talk with me about that a while ago." Mr. Shue exchanged a relieved look with his fiancé.

"I want you to know we will do anything we can to help you. We are so sorry this has happened to you, Blaine."

"I know, Mr. Shue. It really does mean a lot. I just don't know what to expect next. I wish I didn't have to think about it."

"Since you were assaulted, Blaine, this can't be ignored – they don't want you to return to an unsafe environment. Also, there's a special task force that will be in contact with your parents. Your situation isn't safe, Blaine. From what we know, it sounds like it could even put you at risk in other ways." The glee club instructor didn't want to say what was on his mind; since the near suicide of former student Dave Karofsky they'd learned a lot about the stresses teen gay students could face, and that they were particularly at risk. They'd vowed not to let this any child under their care sink into that kind of desperation if they could help it, and Blaine wasn't just any child to him – he'd gotten to know Blaine more as he'd been in glee club this year, and he knew that he was a sensitive boy with emotional issues (even if he usually did a good job of covering this up).

Kurt had an idea what might be going through his teacher's mind, even if Blaine didn't. For the first time, he was glad he would not be going to NYADA at the end of this summer: working in local theatre, taking time to apply to other colleges and programs while staying at home for a year would be better, and now (since NYADA had rejected him, for this year at least) he would not have to leave Blaine's side.

Kurt spoke up, addressing the adults, "thank you so much for being here. That was so great."

Blaine nodded agreement, wishing for a moment he could hug all three of them (but knowing that right now it would hurt way too much). "I don't know what I'd do without all of you."

**A/N Yes, a whole lotta hospital there. But hey, he's on the mend! And it was crucial to the plot development to follow. Dear readers, I really would love to hear from you: these chapters vary a lot – some are dialogue heavy, some not as much, depending on the action. And we've now had fluff, drama, assault, and now, I hope healing (and more fluff, … with a plot twist to come). So, whatever may be on your mind, and whatever constructive feedback you've got, I'd love to hear it. Love you!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Sorry, but I swear I left Blaine in good hands! As usual, I don't own Glee, other people's songs, etc.**

"I'll do it."

The other members of the special task force for teens at risk shifted in their seats, considering. Sue Sylvester was a volunteer member. She'd been outspoken (that was putting it mildly!) on many occasions during these meetings. This was the first time, if they allowed it, that she would be entrusted with contacting an abusive parent.

Emma Pillsbury crinkled her brow, then returned to straightening out the objects in front of her on the long conference table. She decided to say nothing here: she had certainly experienced Sue at her worst, but since the Karofsky incident, she'd been very clear in her desire to prevent teen suicides and intervene for at-risk teens, had not missed any of the meetings, and despite occasional rudeness, had contributed useful insights more than once.

"Of course, you'll be going with an officer of the court," Sue nodded, acknowledging Officer McGurty's statement of protocol, "not that I think you need protection or anything," (here several people stifled giggles), "but anything we say to the Anderson parents needs a witness from now on. Agreed?"

"Absolutely. When can we make it happen?"

Michael Anderson looked to his wife, then strode to the door to open it. They knew their son was in the hospital, and that they'd been advised to wait until contacted by Child and Family Services to see him. He knew that he was accused of causing the injuries that had led to a partially collapsed lung. This still surprised him: he knew he'd had a few drinks, but he definitely hadn't been crazy drunk. He knew he'd had a nasty argument with his son, had slammed him, pushed a few times too, but he knew for sure he had not punched him (which at the time he'd figured was a plus – he'd been angry enough to), and how the hell could a couple of shoves do that?

Whoever was at the door wasn't the most patient, he figured, as another trio of knocks rang out.

"Mr. Anderson? My name is Sue Sylvester. This is Officer Edward Malley. We are here to serve you papers notifying you that your son is in official protective custody."

Why the hell was the tall woman wearing a fucking track suit? The officer was dressed in usual police attire, but who the hell was this? Michael Anderson nodded, opened the door for them, and murmured, "Please, follow me."

Sue smiled at Officer Malley as he drove her back to the courthouse so she could get her own car. "Good work, there, buddy!"

He smiled at her. He hadn't met her before this morning, but it was hard not to be impressed (despite the fact that she was wearing a red track suit; what was _that_ all about?) with how unintimidated she was when dealing with the Anderson parents. Most people would have been – those people clearly had money, and the man at least had initially tried to be intimidating right back. He knew she was a volunteer for the new at-risk teens task force, and that usually only paid staffers did what they'd just done. But no one could have handled this case better, he thought. "Right back at ya, Sue!" He hesitated, the mood instantly heavier, as he added, "do you think it'll work at all?"

He'd pulled into his marked space in the courthouse lot. He turned to look at her, struck by the firmness of her expression, with compassion in her beautiful blue eyes. "If I didn't think it might, I'd be wasting my time." She exhaled, looked down at her hands, as she busied herself with disengaging from the seat belt. "He's on notice now. So is she. And the kid's not going back there, not right away. That much we did right today." She looked back over at him. "I knew Blaine had a lot of stress – the signs are there – overly polite kid, too eager to please adults; I've seen him with the boxing equipment, and when he thinks no one is looking you should see the stress in that kid's body language. Add to that being a gay kid in a school where bullying is still way too common."

Officer O'Malley nodded, agreeing with all she'd said. He knew he wasn't always the best with words, but he also knew sometimes people just had to talk, so he let her go on.

"What I didn't know was that none of the causes of stress I could see were anything compared to what he got at home." She looked outside, stunned by the tears that were starting to form, willing them away. "It makes sense now, the way he behaves."

The officer filled in the silence that opened now. "It's good, having members of the community involved, like you. For people like them to see that it's not just the professionals, you know?"

Sue breathed in, summoned a smile. He has no idea who he's dealing with, she thought. "Thanks, Ed. I'm glad you were there."

"Good morning! Blaine, sorry to wake you, but I have to get a set of vitals, and then your nurse is going to be in, in just a few."

Blaine opened his eyes as the nurses' aide busied herself in the room. "OK. No problem. Do you think I'll get rid of this," he said, pointing to the uncomfortable tube on his right side, about eight inches below his armpit.

The aide smiled brightly as she put the blood pressure cuff on his arm. "Maybe! I sure hope so!" She'd grown fond of the teen, and even liked his boyfriend, who had now slept in the recliner beside the boy's bed for two nights. They were both polite, and seemed to appreciate the little gestures they could do to make the situation tolerable. She was glad Blaine hadn't had to be alone in what had to be a very difficult time. She finished his vital signs, happy with the results, and returned with fresh ice water for each of them. "See you later, Blaine. Oh, and I think your nurse is headed here."

"Thanks, Marla." The nurse looked at the new set of vitals, nodded, and entered the room. "Good morning!"

Blaine hadn't met this nurse before, but he smiled back. "Good morning! I hope you have good news?"

"Pretty soon, I think. The doctor is reviewing this morning's x-ray and lab results. How are you doing today?" The rest of her time was spent in what had become a familiar routine. Blaine was happy that she looked relaxed and seemed pleased by his progress. The damn chest tube hurt, but he didn't want any pain meds just yet. He knew what he wanted: to be free of the tube, the IVs, the pain, and to be able to get out of here. Home, he knew, wasn't an option right now. But he'd met several times with the hospital social worker, and once with the court official handling his case. The plan they'd worked out for him seemed good. He worried about what it would be like to see his father again, but he tried not to dwell on that.

Kurt watched his boyfriend's face after the nurse left. Blaine hadn't noticed yet that he'd awakened. He felt like he could almost read Blaine's thoughts, as his face changed expressions, looking straight ahead at nothing. Blaine tried so hard to be brave all the time, he sighed inwardly. He'd had another of his horrific nightmares last night; Kurt had awakened not to a sound of screaming or anything else so dramatic, but Blaine's breathing had been so loud as he flailed around in the bed, and his expression, once Kurt snapped on a light, had been heartbreaking to see. The monitors must have gone crazy too, since the night nurse had hurried in to check on him. Funny that Kurt had quickly become habituated to the harmless aspects of hospital life, often sleeping through the routine checks the staff did on Blaine, but awakened at once to Blaine's distress signals, even if they were actually pretty quiet.

"What did I sleep through?" Blaine turned to smile at Kurt, leaned over, winced a little at the discomfort of twisting his torso, and kissed his boyfriend.

"Nothing much, yet." He reached for Kurt's hand. "How did I get to be so lucky, having you?"

Kurt stood up, wrapping Blaine in a careful hug. He'd memorized Blaine's body, and now, his injuries, so he knew how to hold him to provide comfort, not pain. How, he wondered, could someone who was hurt by his own father, stuck in a hospital bed with what looked like a damned uncomfortable fucking tube sticking out of his chest, talk about being lucky, with such a gorgeous smile to go with it. "Blaine, honey, you make me feel like I'm the lucky one. And just try," he growled cutely, "to get me away from you when you need me here."

Minutes later, the doctor walked in to see his patient splinting his side with a pillow as he laughed with his friend beside him. A good sign, he thought; laughing would still be pretty uncomfortable, but the fact that he was doing it (thank God he'd been taught to splint, the doctor observed approvingly, that helped the pain so much), and that he always had someone with him (usually this same boy, and sometimes others) was good.

"Hello, Blaine!"

"Oh, hi, Doctor Flynn! Good news, I hope!"

"Aboslutely! Chest tube will come out in about an hour, probably you'll be out of here tomorrow. Your labs and films are looking great." He examined the boy, satisfied with his progress. He'd reviewed the team notes, and knew the teen would not be discharging home. His work was almost done; the boy's body would heal soon enough. He hoped that he wouldn't see him again, not for this.

Artie tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, I'd race you, but it wouldn't be fair."

Blaine smiled over at his glee teammate. "No contest." The doctor had discharged him, and he was glad to be leaving, even if the care he'd gotten had been really great. Kurt was walking beside him. He'd allowed the nurses' aide to push Blaine in the wheelchair (weird, he thought, since they'd had Blaine up walking plenty since he'd been here). He regretted that Blaine wouldn't be going home with him, but he'd sat in on the meetings Blaine had had with the officers of the court as well as the hospital liaisons, and he understood: he was officially being placed in temporary foster care. They'd both been pleased to learn where Blaine would be going: apparently Artie Abrams' family was registered, and took in foster kids for emergency placements from time to time. The at-risk teens task force had been involved, so Emma Pillsbury had had a say in placing Blaine; she had been so happy at how willing the Abramses had been to take Blaine in.

"Kurt, you're coming over for supper, right?"

Kurt smiled gratefully at Artie's dad. "Can't wait! Thanks so much for asking me. Real food!"

"Mr. Abrams, I don't know how to thank you." Blaine turned in the wheelchair to address Mark Abrams.

"Blaine, I'm just happy we can help you. Artie's excited to have you, you know!"

The three boys watched as the older man left to get the family's van. Blaine and Artie were already excitedly making plans for a video game marathon Puck and Finn would be joining in, and Kurt was happy to watch, knowing that he would be right there with them.

**A/N Did you guess that Sue would be the one to show up here? I confess to knowing more of the medical part than the legal parts, though I tried to keep that realistic as much as I was able. I'm trying to show here that a lot of people pulled together at McKinley, especially after the wake-up call that was Dave Karofsky's suicide attempt. This story is close to wrap up, my next is in the planning stages but I'm trying to keep to one at a time here! Anyway, dear readers, feedback is good – my aim is to make this the best fic it can be for you.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Blaine's hair gel: it's complicated... **

**Sorry, it's been longer than I would have liked to make you wait. I don't own Glee!**

_Almost a year later..._

Blaine loped downstairs to answer the doorbell himself; it was a busy morning for all his family, and besides, he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

"Blaine Warbler! Happy Graduation Day!" Blaine was shocked instead to see a smiling David and Wes, who wasted no time in grabbing him for a hearty hug.

"Wes! David! I can't believe it! What are you doing here?"

The two boys grinned first at each other, then at their friend and former schoolmate. Wes put on a mock scolding expression. "Just because you turned traitor and left us – "

"Guys!" Blaine interrupted.

" – that doesn't mean we'd want to miss this. Or your party after." David had completed the sentence. Blaine chuckled at how they still did that.

"I wouldn't dream of it! But, why are you here right now?" Blaine tried to think of a reason, but he couldn't come up with a good one. But he knew these guys, and while they were never late (and had given him plenty of verbal abuse for being late or almost late as a Warbler) they also wouldn't just randomly show up an hour early.

Wesley nodded, and David produced a silver box with blue and red ribbons.

"Blaine! Are you going to let your friends in, or what?" Blaine turned towards the sound of his father's voice.

"Uh, guys, come in, come in!" They'd been in his house before. Even though no one else was in the entryway, the hum of a house with people getting ready to go somewhere was almost palpable.

"We thought this would be the best time to give you this." Blaine accepted the present, a small box, not at all able to guess the contents.

"OK. Thanks. Should I open it?" They both nodded yes, and Blaine smiled at his friends. He opened the box carefully, and knew immediately what he was looking at. "I... I don't know what to say!"

The older boys nodded at each other, pleased. "How about thanks? Also, you should know, it's from all the Warblers, not just us."

"This is so … perfect!" Blaine's smile was full of delight, his whole face animated by happiness. "I'm even wearing the right kind of tie for it today!"

"We know. We have our spies. Or, rather, you have _your_ spy, who then informed on you. For us." All three of them laughed at this. How many people, Blaine wondered, would think that sentence made any sense at all? How fitting, that the boys who had gently interrogated the "world's worst spy" when he came to spy on the Warblers that day, would be their information source, ultimately guiding them to their choice of the perfect graduation gift for Blaine: a delicate gold warbler tie tack, that looked just like their old club's logo. "This card goes with it, everyone signed it."

"I love it. And thanks for the card too."

"We're not gonna delay you, bro. We'll meet up with you after the graduation, OK? We're gonna go hang at the Lima Bean before." And shortly after, they were gone.

Blaine was almost finished dressing; he'd jumped in the shower after his friends left, and was getting dressed for the ceremony. His new white dress shirt was nicely fitted; Kurt had insisted on picking it out for him. He reached for the new tie he'd bought for the occasion: a navy tie with narrower red stripes. He smiled as he put it on: it looked very much like his old Dalton tie, which was no accident. He felt it was a subtle way to pay homage to the school he'd loved, which was also where he'd first met Kurt. Nodding at his own reflection, as he was satisfied with the knot now, he affixed the new tie tack, which looked great with the tie. Most of the tie would be obscured by the bright red graduation robes McKinley High School students wore, and the tie tack would be out of sight until later, when the robe came off. He was sure Kurt would approve; he knew he did.

"Blaine? You about ready? We should get going."

"Almost! I'll be down in soon, mom. Five minutes OK?"

"OK. Five!"

Blaine knew his mom meant it, probably was looking at a watch to time him. Fortunately, he had his hair care down to a science, and really could just manage it in that amount of time. He reflected that this had been a hard year in so many ways, but he was just so happy that it was over, and that it hadn't been as bad as he might have predicted.

_11 months before that ..._

"Son, I never meant for it to be this way." Michael Anderson was looking down at his feet. Blaine knew he never did this; in fact, he prided himself on his direct, fearless gaze. In this moment, the powerful attorney looked lost. Blaine was sure he'd never seen him this way.

"Father, I know." He felt like he should say more, but it was so hard. They'd been to a lot of therapy sessions, both individually, and then several more court-mandated ones together . They'd both talked more to strangers recently than either of them was comfortable with. They were each, in their own way, exhausted; exhausted with talking, exhausted with the effort of reassembling their family. Blaine swallowed, and put a hand on his father's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me that badly that night. You've already apologized, so many times."

The older man's head snapped up, and he fixed his son's face with a steady gaze. This was uncomfortable but familiar to Blaine. "That too. But that's not all what this is about." Blaine nodded, not knowing what to say. He did believe his father felt remorse for the injuries that led to his collapsed lung. He also believed that his father had started listening after the first few sessions, so maybe there was more to this. "I will never really understand what it is to be gay. I admit that." His brows crinkled together, but he didn't look away this time. "And I'm sorry that I kept saying you needed to 'un-choose' it. I guess I finally get it, at least intellectually, that you're telling me the truth when you say that it's just the way you are." He cleared his throat, and put his hands on his son's shoulders. He thought to himself that the fact that Blaine didn't flinch at this gesture now meant so much. How he'd come too close to never being able to make this right.

Blaine nodded slightly, maintaining eye contact with his father. He didn't dare to speak, afraid of the tears they might bring, and he thought to himself that he had no idea what to say.

"I came too close to losing you, Blaine. I won't let it happen again, I swear it." Blaine allowed himself to be enfolded in his father's embrace, and murmured to his shoulder, "I love you." It was so much easier to say that to him without having to look at him. But the boy meant it. Did that mean he was still fucked up, or did that mean he was healing? He knew that at that moment he didn't know.

_Three months later..._

Blaine stared at the huge Harry Potter calendar on his wall, where every day, not before midnight, he crossed off the days that separated him from Kurt's return. How Rachel's dads had managed to get him into FIT so late in the game had been a mystery, but he learned later they were better connected than he might have guessed. They'd been so happy at the unexpected news, and then Kurt had made his decision to go with it pretty quickly: he really was a fashion genius, and it was a great fit for him after all. All except here he was, desperately lonely in Ohio, and there Kurt was, busy at FIT, and sharing an apartment with Rachel.

He didn't know how he'd made it through almost a month of this, but he had. They'd found that they could make it work, that their bond was strong. And they were both busy, and avoided having time to brood too much. For all their differences, in this way they were alike.

He was interrupted by a soft knock at his door. "Blaine, honey, can we come in?"

We? He was surprised to hear that it sounded like both his parents wanted to talk with him, but quickly answered back, "Sure. It's open."

His father glanced at the calendar he'd been gazing at, then looked over to him. "Mind if I sit down, son?"

Blaine nodded, and his father sat down beside him on the bed. He nodded to his wife, who produced a manila envelope from behind her back. "Blaine, we know it's been hard for you, being away from Kurt."

His father picked up from there. "Yes. I see how hard you work. I think sometimes you're going to distract yourself to exhaustion." He patted Blaine's back. "But I think you need a break."

"We both do, sweetie." His mom smiled brightly as she gave him the envelope. "Open it!"

Blaine took it from her, and fished out the printout inside. "Mom! Dad! I can't believe it!" He hugged his mother first, and both his parents' eyes had filled with tears. His mother was so happy to see the instant joy on Blaine's face as he realized what the round trip airline tickets to New York for the upcoming Columbus Day weekend meant. She'd missed how he looked when he was this happy, and was glad to surprise him with this.

Michael Anderson's unfamiliar tears were for another reason altogether: this was the first time since Blaine had become a teen that he'd called him dad; he hadn't been sure he would ever hear that again. He'd worked hard to become the understanding father his son needed. He'd also had to face the fact that this child was hardly a child anymore, and that if their broken relationship wasn't mended this year it might never be. How Blaine had found it in him to accept him back into his heart after all the horrible crap they'd been through, he would never figure out. He regarded it as a miracle only that Blaine had. He reached over to enclose his wife and his son in a group hug, and managed to say softly, "you earned this, son. Now, go call Kurt!"

_Three months later..._

Christmas break had raced by too quickly. Blaine couldn't help but ache for the fact that it was already half over for Kurt, and over in just a couple of days for him, since his high school's break was so much shorter.

Kurt had been skittish at first about visiting the Anderson home when Blaine's parents were around. He found it much harder to forgive them for all the pain Blaine had had for most of Blaine's high school existence. Blaine's relationship with his parents would never be as relaxed and loving as his bond with Burt, but Kurt knew that few teens were that close to their parents, and Burt was amazing; one of a kind as a father. But Kurt gradually relented; Blaine had seemed so relieved to have his parents back, not just physically after the court had approved him moving back home, but emotionally, to have parents who tried their best to understand him, and who, in their own way, loved him enough to be scared to ever lose him again.

Kurt leaned into his boyfriend as they sat in front of the fire in the beautifully decorated living room. "I can't believe I'm so lucky to have you." He kissed Blaine's curls and took in the happy hum of the boy beside him.

"I can think of someone luckier – me." Blaine's reply, as usual, insisting that he'd gotten the better end of the deal.

Michael Anderson watched from the dining room double doors. It was so clear Blaine was happy, and that Kurt really loved him back. He shook his head, and joined his wife in the kitchen. Why this had ever been so impossible to understand months ago, he just didn't know.

_Graduation Day_

Blaine stood in front of the mirror, unsure which product to grab for a minute. He'd gotten good at styling his curls with the assortment of mousses Kurt had chosen (for his money, one would have done it, but Kurt seemed to love variety on this), and fast.

But it was a formal occasion, he thought to himself. Quite so! He smiled, and reached for the gel, squeezing a smallish amount and expertly styling it into a slightly more relaxed version of his old hairstyle. Why have to choose? He'd grown to like having options, had lightened up on his image. In just three minutes, he was ready to go. He grinned as he donned the red graduation gown, grabbed his hat, and felt like on this day he could float, if he wanted. And his relationship with his hair gel was now _not complicated at all_.

**A/N: Do you believe in redemption? I think it can happen sometimes, and I'd like to think it could happen for Blaine. And this tale is now complete! I'd love to hear your thoughts, they mean so much to me, and who doesn't want to produce a better fic?**

**On that note, a confession: this wasn't beta'd. This is really my first, so I had to figure it out as I went. So, dear readers, I hope I didn't commit too big a fanfic felony. I'd love your feedback on this too. If anyone of you would like to help me navigate this, that would be nice.**

**I've enjoyed writing this and sharing it with you, and I do indeed have other plot bunnies waiting for their turn (if you read this last chapter especially, I've put in some spoilers, but I don't think they'll detract too much. Or at least I hope not.).**


	16. Epilogue?

**A/N: OK, not a real chapter, but more a poll. Dear readers, I'd intended chapter 15 to be the end of this story, but a little more has nudged its way into my brain, a bit of an epilogue. So, if you'd just let me know your thoughts on that, you'll help me decide. I respect that a lot of people do read and enjoy, and don't necessarily comment, but in this case I'd like some feedback. Are you still out there? Did I lose you (or, unforgivably, bore you?) at some point?**

**Anyways, thoughts? Epilogue? Let me know, if you've got a sec. I promise to respond to you! As always, thanks for reading :-)**


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Sorry, dear fans of this story (and maybe even my others) … I've changed my name; not something I really wanted to do, but I do have my reasons. I'm still me – I'll now just go by Nightingale63. I do plan to add an epilogue, soon, and hope you'll bear with me. Please feel free to PM me if you have any questions, and thanks for your patience.


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